


True to Form

by Jb (sg1jb)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Off-World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-16
Updated: 2012-09-15
Packaged: 2017-11-14 08:12:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 87,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/513153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg1jb/pseuds/Jb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trapped on an alien world, SG-1 copes both with treachery from without and with the way stress and unrelenting pressure find the weak points - in character, in body, in relationships - and fracture them in unsuspected ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a long story, so it has been separated into 3 chapters.
> 
> Set in early season 2, following 'The Serpent's Lair'  
> Previously posted online, December 2000

 

 

This time. It would work this time.  
  
Feeling his fingernails dig into his palm, Jack forced himself to relax his fist. There'd been quite enough blood and pain on this trip as it was. An unbidden, unwelcome image of his ill teammate, battered and suffering, filled his mind and he roughly pushed it away. That part was over. Done with. Can't change it. Ignore it.  
  
The next chevron on the Stargate lit and he found himself holding his breath as the following one was input. Only to let it out in a huge puff of exasperation as the previous chevrons winked out of existence. Again.  
  
There was no doubt they would find the correct address. It was simply a matter of elimination, after all. He just wished it would happen sooner rather than later. Hell, it already was later. While Jack himself was pretty much past caring, it was actually out of respect for Daniel that he was still standing here, doing this. Bitterness provoked a sharp twinge in his jaw. After all Daniel had done and struggled through, that he couldn't be here, couldn't be a part of finding the solution, was considerably worse than intolerable. The sudden frustration was like a gut-punch, painfully seizing his insides in its wake.  
  
Three chevrons lit, then a fourth. Everything shut down yet again. This really sucked. It was every bit as bad as trying to figure out the correct dialing sequence for his long distance telephone company... which, now that he thought about it that way, meant they were doomed.  
  


* * *

 

* * *

  
  


 

 

 

**Part One**

Jack rapped softly on the door and upon hearing the gruff response from inside, entered General Hammond's office. "You wanted to see me, Sir?"

"Yes, Colonel." Hammond waved Jack into the chair opposite his own. "It's been ten days. How's your team doing?"

Jack looked thoughtfully at his C.O. "Are you asking if SG-1 is ready to go back into the field, Sir?" He hoped that was not the real question, because he wasn't altogether sure of the answer just yet.

It was just ten days ago that the Stargate project had been fully reinstated after SG-1 had managed to destroy the Goa'uld attack ships of Apophis and Klorel as they orbited the Earth. SG-1 had been on stand down from field duties since that time. Dr. Fraiser had been adamant that they take a break, citing the possibility of latent post-traumatic stress.

At first, everyone had protested that they were just fine - everyone except Daniel; he had been uncharacteristically silent - but it had only taken a few days of disturbed sleep, waking nervousness, and difficulties with concentration for them to realize physical health was not the only focus here. As ironic as it seemed, while the rest of the SGC rejoiced and the people of Earth went innocently about their usual business, for SG-1 the aftermath of saving their planet was not as pleasant as one would have thought.

While they waited for the emotional repercussions of their experience to abate they concentrated on other duties. Jack and Teal'c were overseeing the establishment of a new physical fitness and survival training program. Carter had a brainstorm about increasing the efficiency of deciphering the Abydos cartouche and was busily rewriting the SGC's unofficial 'computerese handbook to the stars', and Daniel had buried himself in the fascination that was language.

Jack smiled to himself at the memory of this morning's visit with Daniel in the young archaeologist's office... at Daniel's futile effort to catch several weighty volumes of reference material as they inexorably slid off the huge pile on his desk. He was reviewing a variety of Earth and alien contemporary and archaic languages. "Use it or lose it," he had quipped to Jack.

General Hammond interrupted Jack's reverie. "Yes, I guess I am asking just that, Colonel. We may have a slight problem, and I think you should handle it."

"A problem, Sir?"

"A personnel problem. It's SG-7. I'd like SG-1 to accompany them on their next mission."

Jack was surprised. SG-7 - the new SG-7 which had been put together to replace those lost on Hanka to the Goa'uld plague which had brought Cassandra to them - had been together for a number of months now. They had functioned well under the previous initial tutelage of SG-1 and more recently SG-3, had successfully managed a number of routine missions to previously visited planets, and of late been granted the right to undertake short-duration recon missions to carefully selected unsurveyed planets.

Hammond continued. "They've been on two initial-recon missions so far. On return from both, the behavior of the team members during the debriefings was not what I expect. It was... abnormal."

"Sir? You mean you expect _normal_ behavior?" Jack looked facetiously at his superior officer. "So that's why you always seem upset at SG-1's debriefings."

Hammond gave him a look that clearly indicated this was nothing to joke about. "There is considerable interest from above in the functioning of that team, Colonel. In particular, it's been made clear to me the team leader is thought of as someone of special merit. However, I find their interaction unsettling. I suspect there's a problem. I don't know exactly what it is, and I want you to find out. They are scheduled to go to P6V221 tomorrow morning. I'd like SG-1 to go with them, observe them. The MALP has been sent and the preliminary briefing is at 1600 hours today."

Someone of special merit? That jerk? "Have you seen the MALP tape yet, Sir? No sign of the planet being inhabited?" Jack shifted his weight uncomfortably.

"Yes, of course I've seen it, or I wouldn't be sending them there, Colonel. The MALP tape indicates this is a good selection for a new team. The view of the area surrounding the Stargate is unimpeded, there are no visible signs of life and no evidence of radio transmissions, electro-magnetic traces, or industrial pollutants in the air." Hammond gave him an assessing look. "Exactly what is it concerns you about this assignment?"

Jack didn't know what to say. While on the whole the members of SG-1 seemed to be working their way back to normal, there was a slight undercurrent of strain in their interaction with one another. Daniel had put it very succinctly just the evening before, saying while it was fantastic they were all together safe and sound, if he had to look any one of them in they eye just one more time that day, his guilt was going to eat him alive.

SG-1 had shared many things over the last year - experiences, pain, friendship; now they had something else in common. Guilt. Carter felt guilty about not having questioned the decision to leave Daniel behind in the corridor on Klorel's ship, at having automatically assumed that he had been killed outright. While Teal'c had nothing to say on the subject, they had all caught him staring at Daniel from time to time over the last ten days. According to Carter, Daniel had remarked to her he was certain the Jaffa must be disappointed in him; that Teal'c must think Daniel less than capable as, after all, he had pretty much gotten himself killed out in that corridor. Jack was certain he saw just the opposite in Teal'c's eyes as the Jaffa watched Daniel. But Teal'c wasn't telling anyone what was on his mind.

Then there was Daniel himself. As ridiculous as it sounded to Jack, Daniel felt guilty about returning to the SGC alone through the Stargate, assuming they were all dead. Daniel was angry with himself that he'd not thought of using the gate as a means of escape for them all, before the others had set off on their suicide mission to Apophis' ship.

Self-confidence was a funny thing. It seemed to Jack some of those people who openly displayed it sometimes didn't deserve to have any, and some of those who thought they had lost it - like Daniel - often still had more right to it than most other people ever had in the first place. As subjective as it was, though, for the premier SGC field team the state of each member's self-confidence - plus their individual perceptions of their team member's confidence in self and one other - was an important issue.

"Sir, I think Teal'c and Carter should be fit to go back to field duty. I'm just not too sure about..."

"Dr. Jackson?" Hammond suggested. "Well, there's really no need for him to go with you if you don't feel he's ready."

Jack winced at the thought of telling Daniel his team would be going on their first mission back without him. He knew, though, that wasn't the only reason he felt uneasy. Jack had some reservations about his own confusing inability to put the recent unpleasant memories aside. He carried his own burden of guilt in relation to all that had happened over the previous couple of weeks - a result of both his open sarcasm at Daniel's desperate attempts to get them to believe in his alternate reality experience, and of the searing image of his friend as Daniel lay dying, burn marks and _agony on his face, his chest and shoulder a ragged, bloody, still smoking mess..._

"Colonel O'Neill?" Jack was jerked back to the present by General Hammond's sharp tone. "Are you with me here?"

Jack banished the errant image from his mind. He was all right; he was just fine. And maybe, if Daniel wasn't to go on this mission - Yes, that was the answer. He needed a first mission without Daniel, without having to worry about the kid, about his safety. "I'm fine, Sir. I think it would be wise for Daniel to stay behind on this one. It's a bit too soon for him." Jack paused. "I'm just not looking forward to telling him, that's all."

"That's all right, Colonel. I'll take that responsibility. Please go and inform the rest of your team. I'll expect the three of you here at 1600 hours for the briefing."

 

* * *

  
  
Heading up the ramp, Jack turned to look up at the control room. At Daniel. He knew Daniel had been upset to find out that while the rest of SG-1 had been reactivated, he himself was still on stand down. Jack had seen the hurt feelings, the embarrassment at being singled out, in Daniel's eyes as they had crossed paths the evening before. This morning, though, was a different story. This morning the only thing Jack saw in Daniel's eyes was evidence of a lack of sleep.  
  
"Nightmare." The terse explanation and resigned shrug of Daniel's shoulders had been followed by a small smile, and an admonishment to not be too hard on SG-7. Jack knew then that Daniel was okay with this.  
  
He saw Daniel watching from the room above. The placid expression on his friend's face was reassuring. That was more than he could say about the faces around him on the ramp. They were anything but reassuring. Hammond's instincts were on target; there was something not quite right with this team. Jack turned his gaze back to the ramp and gave the four marines of SG-7 the once over. Major Panter, the team-special-merit-total-jerk-leader, bristled with battle-ready efficiency while Rykert, who Daniel had trained to read the DHD, fidgeted and fussed with his equipment. Paulson and Tyrrell, the remaining two team members, stood stock still in unnatural poses which virtually screamed 'I am determined to be thoroughly and professionally Marine with a capital M'.  
  
All four men waited silently, apparently impatient for O'Neill to give them the go ahead. Officially, Jack O'Neill was in charge on this trip. It was not lost on him that originally this was Panter's mission, and he didn't doubt for a moment that the control-conscious soldier might have some problems with the abrupt change in plans.  
  
Jack's eyes met those of Panter, who returned his gaze coolly. "Whenever you say, Colonel."  
  
Jack indicated to Teal'c and Carter to proceed, waved the SG-7 team ahead to follow them, and with himself tailing the crowd took one last look behind him at the control room window before entering the Stargate.

 

* * *

  
  
P6V221 was cold and damp. And rocky. The ground sloped sharply upward to form high cliffs on all sides of the small valley where the Stargate sat. The footing was solid; packed dirt, dotted with stones ranging from the size of one's fist all the way up to large boulders of three feet in diameter. Stunted, heavily leafed trees gathered in irregularly spaced groves on the low plain, and sparse low vegetation grew on the sides of the up-slopes.  
  
Jack noted with satisfaction that both his and the SG-7 team had fanned out upon their arrival and were already surveying the area in an organized fashion. Teal'c and Carter paralleled Paulson and Tyrrell as they moved outward from the dais, Panter scouted the edge of the forested area behind the Stargate, and Rykert brushed shoulders with the thick clump of trees which hung a network of long, spindly, leafy branches over the DHD. Seeing all was under control, Jack sauntered toward Rykert.  
  
"Uh, Sir?" Rykert looked up at O'Neill with a worried frown on his face.  
  
Jack picked up his pace. He raised his eyebrows at the man. "Rykert."  
  
Rykert glanced uncertainly at him and then his eyes shifted off to the left, looking well past him. Jack could feel Panter's gaze settle on them from behind him. Jack didn't like Panter very much, hadn't right from the get go, months before. The man was humorless and intense, very abrupt. Underneath the clearly disconcerted look on Rykert's face, Jack thought he saw something else - something more ominous - flicker in the young marine's eyes. Pleasantly, Jack spoke to the nervous soldier, diverting his attention away from Panter. "I'm in charge this time around, Rykert. What's up?"  
  
"Sir. The DHD, Sir." Rykert indicated the device with a wave of one hand.  
  
"Yeesss... glad to see Dr. Jackson taught you so well, Rykert."  
  
The flippant response obviously startled Rykert; he looked at Jack in what could only be confusion. Jack raised an eyebrow and after a moment Rykert seemed to come to the realization that more was expected from him. He still hesitated, however. Jack wondered if perhaps Major Panter was the sort that didn't allow those under him to speak more than two words at a time without specific permission.  
  
The young man stuttered slightly, his face reddening. "S-s..Sir. It's d-different, Sir." He indicated the carved glyphs on the face of the device. "The panels... I don't recognize any of these symbols."  
  
Jack watched Rykert fidget in front of him. _Fear._ It was fear he'd seen in the man's eyes. Alarmed, he circled quickly around the waist-high boulder which stood between him and Rykert, and moved to the DHD. As he took in the its appearance, his heart missed more than just a few beats. Oh, shit. It _was_ different; the glyphs bore no resemblance to the symbols he was used to seeing.  
  
Oh shit, indeed. Jack stared in turn at the DHD and Rykert, amazement and concern fighting for precedence. "Jackson!" He automatically called Daniel's name aloud before catching himself. Of course, dummy, the young archaeologist-linguist was not with them on this mission. Oh, Double-Shit.  
  
"Teal'c! Carter!" His two team members turned abruptly and started back toward himself and Rykert. Jack ran his hand over one of the symbols. The surface felt different. He tried to locate the glyphs for Earth, but they simply weren't there.  
  
"Sir?" It was Carter, with Teal'c, both of them now beside him. Wordlessly, he indicated the DHD.  
  
"Holy hannah! Teal'c, look... the glyphs are all new ones..."  
  
Teal'c examined the bas relief panels of the device for an intense moment. "No, Captain Carter. I believe they may be the usual ones." He looked at Jack. "The symbols appear to have been altered, O'Neill. It will take some time to decipher them."  
  
Rykert started as if he had never heard the Jaffa speak before. Jack suspected Teal'c didn't much like Panter either; the Jaffa hadn't especially been talkative on the few training runs they'd had with SG-7. It occurred to Jack if that were the case, Teal'c's thick low timbre and even inflection probably would make the words Teal'c had just spoken all the more threatening for the already spooked young man.  
  
"Altered?" Clearly confused, Rykert deferred to SG-1 by taking a few steps backward, only to be hauled up front again by Jack's hand on his vest.  
  
"No... no, no, no. Don't go wandering off. Don't tell me Jackson taught you _that_ , too? You're the cable guy here, Rykert." Releasing his hold on the vest, Jack stabbed a finger at the ground at Rykert's feet. "Stay." He turned and headed back to the Stargate dais, calling over Panter and the other two members of SG-7.  


* * *

 

It was a full twenty minutes before Carter made her way over to O'Neill and the others. She, Teal'c, and Rykert had carefully examined every glyph and she did not have good news. Rykert hadn't the knowledge to be very helpful. He understood only the usual rudiments of the system, such as how to locate the point of origin and how to reset in case of a misdial. Although she and Teal'c were capable of considerably more, Sam knew they were far out of their league with this particular problem.

"Colonel, I think Teal'c has to be right. The original glyphs must still be there somewhere, but they've been altered. The relief on both the DHD and the Stargate ring have been carefully, elaborately actually, added to. It's amazing really, Sir... it must have been done by a fairly advanced society; I mean, to have the naquada and the tools to form it and add to the existing symbols on the panels so seamlessly - We tried a few of them and the entire glyph lights up when it's pushed so that means they would have needed to..."

"Captain." O'Neill's tone held a gentle warning. Belatedly, she realized she was going off on what the Colonel sometimes referred to as a Carter-Tangent.

"Oh, right, sorry, Sir. Well, the changes are probably purposeful, probably to do with some cultural preference." Sam shrugged. "Probably."

"So, Captain? Probably, how long will it take to probably figure them out? Probably?"

Sam ignored the sarcasm. "Teal'c is trying, Sir, but the glyphs are so altered as to appear totally different and given the amazing job they did forming and joining the naquada, the only indication we have that they're altered and not actually completely different in the first place..." she had to stop for breath "...well, Teal'c noticed the edges and surface of some glyphs feel different in different areas. There's some roughness in some areas while other spots are much smoother. So, we think the smooth areas might be the original symbols, and the rough areas are some of the additions. But then again, given the age of the Stargates and DHD's, Sir, and the fact that the alterations are obviously newer, it's entirely possible it's actually the other way around. Comparatively speaking, it..."

"Carter." The warning was not quite so gentle this time.

"Oh. Yes, Sir. They've been redesigned... added to, Sir. All of them. And we really don't know how to discern the original symbols from in amongst the additions."

The sound of the DHD and the Stargate interrupted them. They turned to see Teal'c pushing on the glyphs, the inner wheel on the 'gate responding. The first chevron lit, then the second and a third, but as Teal'c pressed a fourth glyph there was a low whine and all three chevrons blanked out.

Teal'c and Rykert joined the others. "O'Neill. I tried Earth's address using the usual placement of the Tau'ri symbols on the DHD. The locations do not correspond to what we have seen on many other planets."

Sam interrupted him. "Well, Teal'c, they aren't _always_ in exactly the same place."

"Yes, Captain Carter. Regardless, I wished to attempt it. O'Neill, the alterations are extensive. I do not believe we can decipher these symbols."

"Ah-Ah-Ah..." Jack raised one forefinger to in front of Teal'c's face, waggling his hand back and forth. "Wait... hang on a minute..."

Carter managed a half-hearted smile. "Sir. He's not Daniel."

Intended as a weak joke about the gesture used to selectively silence protests from Daniel, her comment bombed dismally. SG-7 had no reference for it, and for the rest of them all it served to do was to bring home the gravity of their situation. It looked to Sam as though O'Neill wasn't altogether sure if it was a good or a bad thing that the nose he was sticking his finger under wasn't that of the young linguist.

He tried again. "No, wait. Carter, didn't you just say you could tell where the glyphs were added to by the feel of the surface? Sooo, just do the touchy-feely thing and dial us out of here."

Sam glanced at Teal'c, hoping he'd deliver the bad news himself. Predictably, all she got was an impassive look. "Uh, no, that won't work. They did a really great job, Sir. The rough areas only form about, oh, not even ten percent, in total, of the markings... it's pretty much impossible to figure it out that way."

Rykert was ashen, and Panter was livid. Seeing the two of them standing side by side, one white with anxiety and the other black with anger, Sam started to get a very good feel for what was wrong with this team. She glanced at the other two members of SG-7. They stood alongside Teal'c, both of them looking as if they wanted to disappear. O'Neill's hard look caught her eye. It was clear his interpretation of their behavior was similar to her own. Fear. And not entirely due to the problem with the DHD. As he turned his back on them to face her and Teal'c, it was equally clear to her that he'd decided the interpersonal problems amongst SG-7 no longer had any sort of priority.

"Open for suggestions here, folks."

"Well, we're due to report in just under four hours, Sir. General Hammond will probably open the 'gate from the other end for communications or a look around with the MALP, when we're late."

Panter made a derisive noise and cast a withering look in Rykert's direction. Rykert winced, while Paulson and Tyrrell shifted imperceptibly.

Teal'c directed a stern glance at Panter. "Captain Carter is correct. General Hammond will try to establish contact. In the meantime, we should attend to the question of why the symbols may have been altered. That may provide information as to how to decipher them."

Carter agreed. "Yes. There has to be a reason for this. If Daniel were here..." Her voice slowed to a halt at the grim expression on O'Neill's face.

"Well, Captain, Daniel _isn't_ here, and he's not going to be here either. So, we'll just have to use our own brains and solve this ourselves, right?"

Carter nodded. "Of course, Sir. I just meant, maybe he'd recognize some of the symbols. Maybe we should videotape the DHD to transmit through the tape uplink in the MALP, for when they open the Stargate from their end?"

Teal'c added to his earlier suggestion. "Perhaps the changes were made according to some local cultural or language laws? We should start a search for any indigenous peoples..."

An excited voice interrupted him. "Or, any samples of a local language which might provide a base for figuring out the symbols!" Rykert's face was intense, his eyes narrowed in consideration of the problem. Carter allowed herself a small smile; he sounded so much like Daniel.

"Rykert!" Paulson's voice was sharp and loud, drawing his man almost to full formal attention stance.

O'Neill held the Major off with an upraised hand. "No. It's a good idea. Okay. Panter, you take Teal'c and Paulson and start a search off that-a-way..." O'Neill indicated the area to his left, the valley floor in front of the Stargate. "Carter, Tyrrell, Rykert... you're with me, up there." O'Neill pointed to the rising hills to their right.

"Rendezvous back here in three hours. We'll tape the DHD when we get back. We're looking for signs of habitation or anything that might be a written language. But if you do run across something that even remotely might walk and talk, no contact at this point, understand? Recon only." Sam acknowledged the Colonel with a sharp nod, and collected up Rykert and Tyrrell with a small wave of her hand. Panter glowered, but was silent.

"Okay. Let's head out. Back in three, people. Don't be late."

 

* * *

  
  
This was taking forever. Jack grumbled and unfolded himself from his uncomfortable crouch on the ledge of the escarpment. He moved several steps toward the edge to survey the scenery - the valley floor far below and the opposite rock face which rose even higher and more sharply than the one they had explored. He paced back and forth along the edge of the drop. Behind him, Carter was painstakingly videotaping the profuse amount of hen scratching which she and Rykert earlier had proudly declared to be an indigenous written language. They had found the multitude of tiny interlocking lines carved into the face of a vast stone buttress which formed the outer perimeter of an ancient, crumbling village hewn out of the rock face of the cliff wall itself.  
  
An indeterminable amount of time ago the cliff wall had been laboriously and extensively excavated, the vast network of dwellings thereby created extending deep into the mountain. The perimeter wall stretched for miles into the distance. It was an impressive sight, and as he, Carter, Rykert, and Tyrrell had cursorily explored it, Jack had thought of Daniel. He'd found himself actually missing the chatter of discovery typical of the young archaeologist.  
  
Teal'c paused from his examination of the carvings. "O'Neill, there are many areas where the outer path is eroding. You must step very carefully." Teal'c was quite right to be concerned about this restless behavior. Feeling the shifting of loosened dirt under his feet, Jack stopped his pacing and moved back from the edge.  
  
"How much more of that do you need to film, Carter?"  
  
"I don't really know, Sir. I'm just going where Teal'c tells me. Teal'c?"  
  
The Jaffa straightened up from his close inspection of a portion of the wall. He had been surveying the carvings, locating the best preserved sections for Carter who followed along with the camcorder. "There appear to be a great number of individual symbols. I do not know the process Daniel Jackson uses to decipher a language. I expect if there are symbols missing, that process is made more difficult."  
  
"Yeah, yeah." Jack waved an arm at him. "A long-long-long time. Why didn't you just say so." He moved into the safety of one of several slight alcoves which indented the buttress at regular intervals, and sat down on the rocky ground. "Just wake me up when you're done."  
  
Closing his eyes, Jack reviewed the events of the last few hours. After leaving the Stargate, he and his charges had hiked up a long, curving, and very steep incline which had soon turned into a narrow path skirting what was to become the face of a cliff wall. Having nowhere else to go, as the valley where the Stargate was located was surrounded on all sides by identically steep hills, they carried on.  
  
Following the path as it rose and twisted ever more off to their right, they'd soon found themselves balanced on a narrow ledge which hovered over a precipitous drop of several hundred feet to the treed valley floor their left. Jack had tailed the group as they slowly maneuvered in single file along the ledge. He'd let his hand trail lightly along the wall to his right, in what he knew to be a completely ridiculous reliance that the light contact would ensure safety from a deadly fall. Then the ledge had widened somewhat, the steep climb abruptly leveling off. Around the next sharp bend was the amazing excavation, with writings both painted onto and carved into the outer perimeter wall alongside the ledge, and on the walls of the long cavern which led to the rest of the village.  
  
He had ordered that they set out to return to the Stargate, so as not to be late and totally screw up what little authority he had over Panter. Of course, the reason he gave to the others for their quick departure was so they could all meet as a group and determine how to proceed.  
  
The fact was he had already decided how to proceed. SG-7 was to be left safely camped out at the Stargate to report their find and transmit the DHD images when the SGC - hopefully - would dial them up to investigate why they had not reported in on time. He, Carter, and Teal'c would return to the cliff site and videotape the writings. The recording could later be loaded into the playback on the MALP and the images transmitted to the SGC for analysis.  
  
Upon their rendezvous with the others back at the Stargate, it was pretty clear Panter wasn't pleased about that plan of action. Why the man had been so belligerent was another story... a mystery Jack wasn't willing to spend a lot of time on just then. With growing restlessness he recalled the argument he and Panter had over Jackson. They had been close to coming to blows over that issue, and it was a welcome relief to all when SG-1 had set out to return to the cliff village. But that was hours and hours ago, and now Jack felt an inexplicable need to be finished here, to once again get back to the Stargate.  
  
Not that getting back to the Stargate would do them any good if Hammond hadn't dialed through, if they couldn't get any information to Daniel. Jack's interaction with Panter replayed in his mind. The combination of Panter's insistence on having direct access to Daniel and his paradoxically derogatory comments about the young man was completely nonsensical, not to mention infuriating. Panter was probably emotionally unstable. If through some unimaginable miracle they ever returned home, Jack resolved to himself that he would ensure the man was relieved of his position.

 

* * *

  
  
Tyrrell glanced nervously at his C.O. as Panter walked further out from the immediate area of the Stargate. Rykert hissed at him and Paulson, and the three men moved carefully toward one another.  
  
"What do you think he's playing at? Is this a power thing, or what?" Rykert was beside himself, nerves stretched close to the breaking point.  
  
"Look, take it easy. Don't go off the deep end here, okay? Maybe O'Neill told him to do it and we just don't know it..."  
  
Paulson slashed a hand through the air angrily. "Shit, Ty. You know that didn't happen. Panter's just... Christ, he's gotta be nuts, doing that." His tone became aggressively defensive. "It doesn't matter anyway. Whatever, it's not our doing. It doesn't affect us."  
  
Rykert stared at Paulson. "What? What do you mean, not our doing? Doesn't affect us? We answer to Panter. You think he's not gonna take us down with him, or, what... that maybe we can tell O'Neill the truth and Panter will let us get away with it? No way."  
  
Paulson positively spat his next words at his team mates. "Shit. It doesn't matter! We'll never get back home anyway, no matter if Panter gets what he wants or not. So who cares?" Rykert saw intense fear underneath the anger in Paulson's eyes.  
  
The sound of the Stargate startled them. They turned to watch as the chevrons lit one by one and the incoming wormhole was established. Panter, hearing the 'gate activate, headed their way. Watching his C.O. stride toward the Stargate, Rykert felt a strong sense of foreboding; Paulson was wrong, he was so _wrong_. Regardless of what the SGC decided to do, what Panter had done did affect them, it affected all of them.  
  
Stepping back to stand slightly behind his teammates, he prayed that the opening of the Stargate would bring only voices. At least then they'd know for certain where they stood, and the risk from Panter would be no different than it had always been.

 

* * *

  
  
Jack's thoughts were interrupted by Carter. "Colonel, I think we're about done here." She sat down next to him, frowning at the camcorder she held. "I just don't know if the transmission quality will be good enough for Daniel to actually see anything worthwhile."  
  
Jack didn't respond, didn't even open his eyes. What was there to say? Their situation was grim; his plan of action was a long shot, and they all knew it.  
  
Carter sighed and slapped her hand against the ground. "Well at least Daniel is still safe at home. Darn! If only there was some way..."  
  
Jack's eyes snapped open as the image of a quick flash of bright light illuminating burnt and bloody flesh exploded in his mind. "No!" He sat up with a jerk. Teal'c, his attention drawn by the outburst, moved over to their position. "No. Not a chance, you hear me, Carter?"  
  
His harsh tone caught Carter off guard. Looking stung, she quickly blurted a denial of her own. "No, no... I meant, I didn't mean I wanted him here, Sir. I was just trying to say that I wished we could get clearer images to him..."  
  
"Well, I _do_ want him here, Carter. But it's not going to happen, you got that?" Jack climbed to his feet. He looked at Carter and Teal'c, at their silent acknowledgment it was out of the question - that they would not for one moment seriously wish to place Daniel in the same position they were in - and simply nodded, not trusting his voice right then. The memories were still fresh; the personal horror which came with the realization of what he had done, and of what Daniel had suffered because of it, still all too real. He should have realized the Jaffa would enter the corridor behind them in force - that in fact, in leaving Daniel to 'watch their backs', he was placing him in the most dangerous position of all.  
  
To make matters worse he had left Daniel to die alone, had left him still conscious, laying out in the corridor in what had to be excruciating pain. Nevertheless, somehow his friend had managed to drag himself into the sarcophagus. To Jack's guilt-ridden mind the very fact that Daniel, alone and suffering, had the time to ensure his survival and escape was irrefutable evidence that Jack had made the wrong decision in not even trying to find some way to help him.  
  
Well, that sort of misjudgment just wasn't going to happen again. Jack was determined. Their chances of getting off this godforsaken rock were pretty tenuous whether Daniel was with them or not. Jack was clear on that; there was no way he'd place Daniel, or any of them for that matter, unnecessarily at risk again.  
  
He turned to his teammates. "Look, let's just do the best we can with what we have, okay? If that doesn't work, we'll figure out something else."

 

* * *

 

 

**  
Part Two**

Major Panter's voice across the MALP audio link was intermittently unintelligible, distorted by static and irregular interruptions in continuity of the signal. Hammond sighed in frustration. He had two teams out there unable to return due to a malfunctioning DHD and other than a strong suspicion of the nature of the last request in the transmission, he couldn't make out half of what the man was saying. He turned to the tech on duty and told him to advise Panter the SGC would re-establish contact through a new wormhole in thirty minutes. Signaling for the Stargate to be shut down, he instructed the technicians to recycle and enhance both the audio and video relay portions of Panter's report. Then he picked up the telephone and called to have Dr. Jackson located.

Ten minutes and one additional telephone call later, Jackson was there, unasked questions written all over his face and concern in his eyes. General Hammond had the MALP audio replayed three times, before they felt they had a grasp of the situation. Panter was reporting foreign glyphs on the DHD Carter and Teal'c could not decipher. Attempts to dial Earth using previously encountered placement as a guide had failed, as had subsequent experimental attempts to activate the Stargate using random glyphs. Panter's report continued, advising that the teams had done a recon and did not find evidence of an active civilization, however they had found extensive writings similar in style to the altered glyphs on the DHD, carved in solid rock.

"O'Neill ordered," followed by a very short burst of static and then "send Dr. Jackson" had been the last intelligible words of the transmission.

Despite the evident request for assistance, Hammond's feelings about the possibility of sending yet another person to a planet with a non-functioning DHD - especially, under the present circumstances, Dr. Jackson - were unequivocal. O'Neill had indicated he didn't think Jackson was ready to go off-world, and the young man's eventual calm acceptance of being left off this mission had confirmed that assessment for Hammond. Even putting that consideration aside, the wisdom of placing another member at risk was dubious at best.

The General watched as Jackson repeatedly studied the accompanying video playback of the DHD symbols. At first sight, the young man had indicated none of the glyphs were at all familiar, but after a few moments Jackson was able to point out several panels where it appeared the original symbols were possibly still present, integrated into the new shapes. For the most part, however, the alterations were so extensive that the vast majority of the glyphs seemed entirely foreign to both of them.

But there was a particular expression on the young man's face, one that General Hammond had seen before. It was a look of single-minded determination, one that spoke of an impending giant leap of intuition yet to come. As Hammond waited, unambiguous feelings and all, he suspected the decision of whether or not to send Jackson inevitably was out of his hands.

 

* * *

  
  
Daniel concentrated on the glyphs with more than just his conscious attention. He allowed his mind to flow in active interaction, to wrap itself in and around the problem like a swirling mist, enclosing and yet being enclosed by the images on the monitor. Upon close inspection, there seemed to be almost a sort of orderliness to the glyphs. He couldn't put his finger on it, but _something_... there was something vaguely familiar about the appearance of the DHD markings.  
  
The bare beginnings of intuition nibbled at the edges of his mind, some sort of as yet unrealized insight teasing him. Tantalizingly close, yet still very far away. Chewing on the end of his pencil, Daniel leaned back in his seat, pausing the playback.  
  
Hammond stood at his shoulder. "Well? What do you think?"  
  
"Well, from what we can tell the Stargate processes the glyphs and calculates the alignment relative to each other as each one is entered, in the order they are entered. So they'd need to hit not only on the right glyphs but also the correct order. They already tried dialing according to placement but it didn't work, but those aren't the only problems. Even if the luck of the draw was with them, without the point of origin they can't string together a complete address even from random entries. Not that they'd want to dial out with random entries, to... wherever. In any case, random entries or not, from just this playback I don't know if it's possible to eliminate the other symbols to isolate the point of origin."  
  
Glancing over his shoulder at the older man, Daniel tapped his pencil on the table. "Sometimes it's the symbol at the very top of the Stargate, but it's not unusual to find it just about anywhere. Combine that with the odds against random selections forming a valid address to a habitable planet in the first place, and I don't see how they can dial out of there to anywhere without having some way to decipher the glyphs."  
  
Hammond's concern expressed itself through irritability. "You're not being much help here. So what _can_ they do, Dr. Jackson?"  
  
"I'm just as worried as you are, General." Although Daniel tried to keep his voice soft, he knew his feelings about the rebuff were all too evident. But the General's impatience with him wasn't the only thing which pained him. His friends were in trouble, really in trouble. Daniel couldn't bear the thought that after all SG-1 had been through together, that his teammates may not come back - that he might, after all, be left here alone. He didn't think he could handle re-living that terrible feeling of ten days before, the grief that had come from believing himself the only one to survive the destruction of Klorel's and Apophis' ships.  
  
As real as the knowledge was that he was still not ready for field duty, Daniel was even less prepared to even remotely consider he could conceivably end up being the only one left. "Look. I'll know better if I can see the writings. They could be the key to deciphering the symbols; after all, it's most likely the alterations are purposeful."  
  
Daniel stood and turned to face the General. "Sir. Permission to go to P6V221..."  
  
The words were not even out of his mouth and Hammond was shaking his head, doubt written all over his face. "Sir," Daniel protested. "I'll be able to see the writings first hand. Jack wouldn't have asked for me if he didn't think we could do this. Even if we can't dial out, you can dial in to the planet. I can study the symbols in their natural setting, and you can send us whatever resources, texts, files, I don't know... coffee... whatever we'll need."  
  
"Dr. Jackson, I just don't think that's wise. We re-establish contact with them in just under ten minutes. I'm sure we can work out some way you can help out from here." Hammond turned to leave, but was stopped by Daniel's hand on his arm.  
  
"Sir!" Despite his best attempt to keep his distinctly unmilitary demeanor down to a dull roar, Daniel's renewed protest was vehement. At Hammond's disapproving frown, Daniel hastened to soften his tone, putting on his best little-boy-lost expression. "Sir, my team is in trouble out there. I _know_ I can help them. Please. I have to go."

 

* * *

  
  
Hammond was no slouch at reading between the lines. Even after all this time, he recognized the appeal as an echo of Jackson's words to him the morning after the second Abydos expedition, the one where Jackson lost all that was dear to him. The young man had lost a wife and a home, due in part to Hammond's own actions. This was the same plea as that made barely one year ago... made in the attempt to coerce Hammond to allow the then-naive civilian to join SG-1. _Sir. My wife is out there. I have to go._  
  
Naive? Hammond looked at the young man with exasperation. Even the look on Jackson's face, determination mixed with pleading sincerity, was the same. In some ways the man was still, incredibly, an innocent... but he certainly was _not_ guileless. If the young scientist thought this lost-man-child routine would sway him again, if Jackson really thought he'd fall for this twice...  
  
Even as he rebelled against the overt emotional manipulation, Hammond knew he would relent. Jackson's initial argument was strong; Hammond knew how Colonel O'Neill felt about this young man. O'Neill would never have had Panter ask for Jackson if he felt the young man couldn't handle it, or if there was any possibility they wouldn't be able to solve this problem and come home. If there was any chance at all of SG-1 and SG-7's return, it would be this boy who would bring them all back.  
  
Hammond had reluctantly known, the moment he had seen the intense look of burgeoning insight on Jackson's face, that the choice really was not his to make. The decision was inevitable. Besides, there was the other telephone call to consider. Resigning himself to the risk of possibly losing yet another valuable member, he gave in. "Be ready to go in ten minutes, Doctor Jackson."

 

* * *

  
  
Daniel stumbled slightly as he stepped out of the event horizon. Getting his feet under him, he looked around expectantly. He saw SG-7, but where was SG-1? Turning to the three men standing nearby, he recognized Rykert. Nice guy, really keen to learn. Daniel had liked working with him.  
  
"Hey. Hi." Rykert and the other two Marines simply stared at him for a moment, and then upon the approach of Major Panter they scattered like mice caught out in the open. Daniel frowned.  
  
"Jackson. Over this way." Panter waved him toward the DHD. The man's face was flushed and his voice was cold. For a moment Daniel stayed where he was, confused, glancing between Panter and his men who had moved off.  
  
"Jackson!" His name came out of Panter's mouth as if it were a curse. "I said get the hell over here."  
  
Daniel felt his mouth drop open in surprise at the other man's all too evident hostility. Panter reached him in several giant strides and took his upper arm in a firm grip, pulling him along to the dial home device. "Do something with this, will you."  
  
Do something with...? "Uhhh... I, I can't."  
  
Panter's face clouded even further, turning a bluish red color as his eyes positively bulged out of their sockets. Daniel thought the top of the man's head would shoot off. "You _can't_. Why not?"  
  
Daniel explained as quickly as he could, as if the very speed of the delivery would somehow negate the impact he suspected the words would have on the irate soldier. The symbols were not fully consistent with any language he knew. He needed to see the local written language; the only way to translate the glyphs into something sensible was to find some evidence of the derivation of the alterations.  
  
Clearly, it was the wrong thing to say. Panter's reaction was extreme, to say the least. Daniel suddenly found himself on the receiving end of a forceful grip around his throat. Too surprised to react, Daniel was pushed backward against the side of the DHD pedestal. The hard circular edge of the device dug into the small of his back. The grip on his neck was equally as painful. Daniel looked over Panter's shoulder and was shocked to see the other members of SG-7 simply turn away. Increasingly confused and becoming angry himself, Daniel swiped at Panter's arm, but the stronger man just sneered and with an abrupt motion swept Daniel off to one side, releasing his grip as he did so. Daniel found himself on the ground, staring up into the wrong end of an M16 held by one very pissed off Marine.  
  
"You _can't_. You _can't_. Well I can't either... I can't stand around and let you flyboys take over my command, order me around... send O'Neill to baby-sit..." Panter's tone, at the mention of Jack, was venomous. "... and then strand me here on this goddamned _rock_." He whirled around and marched a few paces away, apparently sinking deep into thought.  
  
Oh crap. Where was Jack? Daniel turned his attention to the other members of SG-7. "Rykert? Where's SG-1? What's going on here?" Rykert rolled his eyes expressively, but did not otherwise answer.  
  
Seeming to come to an abrupt decision, Panter barked at his men. "Let's go. We're moving out." Panter grabbed Daniel's arm, pulling him up to his feet. He removed Daniel's sidearm from its holster and his knife from its sheath and shoved the weapons into the waistband of his own BDU pants. He jerked Daniel forward. "Paulson. Bring him."

 

* * *

  
  
Panter led them along the valley floor for quite a distance, every so often pausing to gaze up at the ever increasingly steep slopes to their right and to prod a 'yes' or a 'no' out of a reluctant Rykert. Daniel was unsure what they were looking for. Walking some ten paces behind, every so often given a light shove by Paulson who followed him, he was unable to make out any specific words in the low growl which Panter intermittently directed at Rykert.  
  
At first Daniel had tried to talk to them, to find out where SG-1 was and what it was that was expected of him. After several such attempts, which were met by angry glares from Panter and guilty avoidance from the others, Panter suddenly lost his patience. He covered the distance between himself and Daniel in huge leaps of naked aggression and abruptly gave Daniel a strong backhand which knocked him flat, splitting his lower lip. Not fun. Daniel gingerly fingered his sore lip and decided it would be wise to keep his questions to himself.  
  
After several hours of steady trudging through low brush and intermittent stands of trees, during which time Daniel only just barely managed to avoid making the same mistake again, Panter stopped. "This is far enough." He glanced at Rykert, who nodded. "Stay here. I'll find a way there." With that, Panter disappeared around the next bend toward the cliff face.  
  
As soon as Panter was out of sight, the other three SG-7 team members utterly deflated, their barely maintained facade of indifference mutating into panicky nervousness. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Daniel quickly grasped Rykert's forearm. "What the _hell_ is going on here? Where's Colonel O'Neill?"  
  
"Dr. Jackson... he's gone crazy." The look Daniel gave the other man said that Daniel had already figured that part out, _thanks-very-much_. Rykert nodded in acknowledgment, and continued. "Yeah. Actually, he always was pretty... scary, like, really arrogant, you know? It just got worse with each mission and he got, well, more and more abusive. But honest to God, Sir, we didn't know he was going _crazy_..."  
  
"So why did you put up with it? Why didn't you complain or something?" The horrified expressions on the three faces in front of Daniel answered his question well enough. For the life of him, Daniel would never understand the military mind.  
  
"Look, Sir, Dr. Jackson... you're not supposed to be here. Major Panter should never of got you here. He's way out of line. I think, I'm pretty sure, he did it to get back at the Colonel."  
  
Daniel's eyes narrowed as he took in this piece of information. "What?" He looked to the others for confirmation and got pained agreement in response. Cold washed over him as he realized what they were getting at. "Jack... Colonel O'Neill? He never asked for me to come?"  
  
Tyrrell nodded guiltily. "No. The Colonel, he said no one should come, _especially_ not you. But, see, the Major, we couldn't stop him. He does what he wants - Sorry."  
  
No one, especially not... An incipient feeling of betrayal rose in his gut. Jack didn't want him here, didn't trust him enough to be here. Putting aside his own lack of confidence - Daniel knew only too well what was at the root of the hurt feelings which welled up inside him - he tried to concentrate on the situation at hand. Both dismay and rising concern for his team put an edge of panic to his voice. "Where is the Colonel? Is SG-1 okay?"  
  
Eager to atone, Rykert's head bobbed vigorously. Paulson also seemed to regain some inner fortitude. "Yeah, actually they're up there somewhere." He indicated the cliff face towering above. "They went to film some sort of writing or something. We were supposed to wait for them at the Stargate, and report the problem with the DHD. Colonel O'Neill and Major Panter had an argument about you. It was... a doozy. The Major was really upset. He just went _nuts_ after the Colonel left."  
  
Seeing that Daniel didn't fully understand, Rykert filled in the gaps. "The Major wanted to get you here to decipher the DHD. He thinks... he thinks I don't know what I'm doing, and Captain Carter and Colonel O'Neill don't know what they're doing. He thinks _he_ knows more than anybody else. Captain Carter was talking about how this sort of thing was your specialty, linguistics and ancient languages and stuff. So, Major Panter decided _you_ could get us out of here."  
  
Tyrrell interrupted. "I think he figured if there was any chance you could come up with the address to get home, then you had to come here. He's scared, but he won't admit it. He just wants to get back to Earth, and he'll try anything that might get him there. He doesn't care about stranding you here if you can't do it. He doesn't care who else he brings down."  
  
"Right. Colonel O'Neill said no. Said it was too iffy to risk having anyone else come through. He said we would send images of the writings and you could try to decipher them from the SGC." Rykert glanced over his shoulder, wary of Panter's return. "Then Colonel O'Neill said we had all the time in the world to get this figured out, that there was no need for you to be at risk too... and Panter just blew a gasket."  
  
Paulson took over. "He started ranting about how the Colonel stole his command from him. I think he means this mission. Started making comments about you, being, uhhh, well, being just a civilian and how the Colonel..." Paulson looked embarrassed, "... well, how you're called.... how the Colonel has all these nicknames for you and has to protect you and stuff..."  
  
Daniel was hard pressed to keep the stab of pained humiliation from showing on his face. How the Colonel has to protect... nicknames... just a civilian... If Panter thought that, even after the events of ten days ago, then how many others felt the same about him? Paulson would never know how truly hurtful those words were. While this conversation was doing no good at all for his already bruised self-confidence, part of Daniel realized he had probably allowed his insecurities get the better of him. Jack didn't want him here not because he didn't value him, but because he _did_.  
  
A rustling of underbrush heralded the return of Major Panter. He walked over to the four men and purposefully invaded Daniel's personal space, standing as uncomfortably close as he could to the younger man without actually climbing right on top of him. "Now we're gonna go up there, and you're gonna get us the hell off this godforsaken rock." He glared at Daniel, as if daring him to contradict the statement.  
  
"Oh? And how am I supposed to do that?" Now that he understood the situation, Daniel felt a little better about his own safety. If Panter thought he was their ticket off this planet, it was unlikely the Major would do anything to seriously hurt him. "I won't do anything until I see the rest of SG-1."  
  
Panter's response was rigidly controlled. "Certainly. They're right up there, taking pretty pictures of the language you're gonna translate so you can work the DHD." He grabbed Daniel by the jacket and roughly shoved him in the direction of the steeply sloping cliff base. "Now let's get going, Dr.-know-it-all-Spacemonkey."  
  
Daniel allowed himself to be propelled along. While he was disappointed in Rykert, he still sort-of trusted him, and Rykert had agreed when Paulson had said that SG-1 was above them. So if that was where Panter wanted him to go, then that was all right with him.  
  
Or at least, it _was_ all right with him until he saw how Panter intended for him to _get_ there.

 

* * *

  
  
The Stargate was deserted. The MALP stood entirely alone in the glade, a silent, lonely sentinel. There was no sign of the camp the others were supposed to have erected, and no SG-7 anywhere in sight or within hearing.  
  
"For crying out loud..." Jack vented some frustration by throwing his cap onto the ground at his feet. Realizing how petulant that must appear, he quickly stooped and picked it up. Besides, it was his favorite.  
  
"Well, the SGC must have opened up the Stargate by now. We were scheduled to report over four hours ago. I wonder if SG-7 set out to meet us and we just missed them?"  
  
"Oh, sure they did Carter. Panter was probably very afraid for our safety." Jack was angry, and getting angrier by the moment. SG-7 had not even budged toward setting up; all of the packs were still piled up next to the MALP.  
  
"O'Neill. This does not make sense." Teal'c was staring at the ground by the DHD. "There are imprints of more than just SG-7 here." He slowly walked off to the right of it, closely examining the hard packed earth as he moved cautiously, apparently trying to avoid inadvertently interfering with any tracks. Pointing to a slightly scuffed area beside the DHD, he said, "There appears to have been a struggle of some sort, perhaps a fall, over there."  
  
Alarm bells rang for both Jack and Carter. Weapons came up to the ready automatically.  
  
Carter pursed her lips. "Natives?"  
  
"No." Teal'c bent down and touched the ground with his fingertips. "One other person." He looked up at Jack. "Wearing SGC issue boots."  
  
"Oh? What size?" His chest growing tight, O'Neill tried for some light levity... quite unsuccessfully.  
  
Teal'c took the facetious question quite seriously. "If a male, one with relatively small feet. These are the tracks of Major Panter." He pointed to some vaguely disturbed dirt which looked to Jack to be as alike to footprints as the scuff marks his Aunty Nellie's tripod cane left on linoleum. "The rest of SG-7 stood over there. These are the tracks of a fifth person, leading from there..." Teal'c indicated the base of the dais "...over to this location. An individual not as heavy as yourself, O'Neill. However, very likely male, as the spacing of the strides indicates the height to be in excess of most human females. The ground is too hard to provide much more information than that."  
  
Carter asked the obvious. "A male about Daniel's size, Teal'c?" The Jaffa simply shrugged, but the twitch and slight downturn of his lips indicated he thought that was most likely. And that he didn't like that thought much.  
  
Jack read the expression and it confirmed what he already, in his heart, well knew. He turned to survey the rough landscape. Daniel was out there, somewhere... and he was with Panter. And Panter was nuts. A flashback rocked him, this one stronger than any he'd had before; the acrid smell of burnt fabric and flesh and fresh blood; the terrible pain and frustration in Daniel's voice as he urged Jack to _go on, get out of here... just going to die anyway on the other ship... what difference does it make... go... just go._  
  
"Can you track them, Teal'c?" The words were whisper soft and immeasurably hard at the same time. Jack was furious. At the Jaffa's slight nod, he shouldered his weapon and indicated Teal'c should lead the way.

 

* * *

  
  
Oh shit. Daniel tipped his head back and stared in horror at the faint trail of disturbed dirt which wound through the low brush and myriad various sized rocks dotting the side of the steep slope. The incline went up and up, and then up some more. And then even higher, steeper. He could see, far above, where the slope became sheer enough as to make it difficult for even the weeds to hold their place.  
  
His mouth opened and closed wordlessly. He gestured at the slope, index finger pointing aimlessly as his hand waved around, the movement mimicking the chaos in his mind. There was no way, no friggin' way, he was climbing _up there..._  
  
Panter confirmed his worst fears. "Get going. I did all the work already. I made a path."  
  
Oh yeah. Some path. Daniel suspected what Panter proudly referred to as a 'path' was simply the evidence of his having passed by that way, and even that faint trace likely would disappear just the other side of the nearer clumps of brush. Panter probably had no idea whether or not the climb was even possible, never mind safe. Daniel now doubted very much that SG-1 was really up there. Jack would never place his team at risk by asking that they scale such a slope.  
  
This time he said it aloud. "No way. No frigging way." Daniel's hand stilled, his arm held straight out and the finger no longer waving aimlessly, but instead confidently pointing up the slope as evidence of his resolve. "Jack, I mean SG-1, isn't up there. And no way am _I_ going up there."  
  
Panter answered by giving Rykert a strong shove in the back with the butt end of the M16. Rykert took the hint and turned to Daniel. "They're up there, really. They went up a different way... we went up from the south the first time, when we found the village. It's a lot easier."  
  
Daniel was confused. "Village? There's a village?"  
  
Rykert cast a nervous glance at Panter. Apparently coming to the conclusion the Major wasn't going to shoot him where he stood, he responded to Daniel. "Yeah. The village. It's carved out of the side of the mountain. That's where we found the writings. Instead of going up the same way, Major Panter took us along the valley floor past the site." He pointed upward and behind them, to a spot somewhat back of their present location. "It's up there, over halfway up the cliff face. We walked past about where it is, so it's a little bit behind us now."  
  
Catching on, Daniel turned to Panter, eyes wide with incredulity. "You want to avoid SG-1. You think they already left the site... that, that they're on the way down to the Stargate. You have no intention of taking me to them." His expression hardened. "Well, I won't go."  
  
So fast as to be a blur, the rifle butt came up and caught Rykert across the jaw, and just as swiftly the business end of the weapon swung around to Daniel. The loud report as it discharged made Daniel jump, and dirt flew up from right in front of his feet. "Sure you will."  
  
Paulson and Tyrrell stood frozen for a moment, before Paulson apparently decided he'd had enough. With a roar he leapt at Panter. The rifle blasted repeatedly, and Paulson first jerked to a halt and then fell backward as the bullets impacted his chest. Daniel and the other two looked on in deep shock as Paulson's lifeless body impacted a tree trunk and slid to the ground.  
  
Panter seemed just as surprised as the rest of them. His face turned a pasty shade of white as he stared at the body, and he started shaking. Swinging the M16 around in an arc, the rifle jumping up and down in time with the twitching of his arms, Panter began to chatter. "No... nooo... he came at me he came... he... the gun, it just... it was because you... look what you did... _look what you did_..."  
  
Panter's eyes were huge with panic as he abruptly swung the weapon back around to point directly at Daniel. "Look what _you did!_ " Quickly, the white face reddened and then colored further, blackening as Panter's eyes narrowed and the panic was replaced with open hostility. And with something else -  
  
Daniel stood stock-still. It was clear Paulson's death had more or less been a horrible accident - Panter was one giant walking hair trigger, and Paulson had set it off. It was equally clear a second death would not be as unintentional. There was a blatant accusation in Panter's eyes, aimed directly at Daniel. If Panter hadn't been completely off the deep end before, Daniel could see that with this horrific mishap the man had just dived right off the end of the pier with a concrete block tied to his waist.  
  
"Well. I guess that just takes the cake, doesn't it? It's done now, though... maybe it's all for the best." Panter laughed; a shrill, uncontrolled sound that sent a chill up Daniel's spine. Suddenly, the Major tipped his head to one side and smiled coldly, as if listening to something only he could hear. "Yes... it must be all for the best... "  
  
The M16 abruptly turned on Tyrrell, who blanched snow white and began slowly backing away. "You know, Jackson, I really don't give a shit who comes with us and who doesn't." Just as Daniel's impulsivity broke through the wall of his shock and he leapt forward at Panter, he heard the weapon discharge again.  
  
Daniel didn't see Tyrrell fall, but he did hear Rykert's shriek of horror. The only thing Daniel actually _saw_ was a close-up and personal view of the cold steel, grey, side of the rifle as it impacted him with great force. The world flip-flopped sickeningly as he went down hard, clutching his face. The pain was immense; it felt like his nose had been ripped right off and sharp spears of fire lanced through his forehead. As he rolled in torment on the ground, Daniel was only vaguely aware of the blood running freely through his fingers and the sharp fragments lodged in his face from his broken glasses.  
  
He dimly heard Panter ordering Rykert to turn over his sidearm. Through the multi-colored flashes which danced in his tearing eyes he saw Rykert forced to lay on his stomach, while Panter settled himself down on the ground in the shade of a nearby tree. Panter, a complacently pleased expression on his face, seemed to be waiting contentedly for Daniel to come back to his senses.  
  
Panter's apparent self-satisfaction was short-lived. With a sudden burst of static, the radios on their vests came to life and a tinny voice issued forth. Daniel removed one hand from his face and desperately groped for his comm switch, but Panter was there first. A rough hand gripped his own and an unfriendly voice mocked him.  
  
"Don't bother, Jackson. You just go on ahead with what you were doing... just keep on playing roll-around..."  
  
Daniel only just barely heard Jack's voice addressing each member of SG-7 by name, trying to elicit a response, as Panter crouched down, roughly flipped him over, and ripped the radio from his vest pocket. Much to his dismay, Daniel found himself laying flat on his back. Not good. Throwing the radio aside, Panter crouched beside him, laughing, evidently enjoying the soft gurgling noise which was the result of Daniel trying to breath through the flow of blood going from his nose down the back of his throat.  
  
Everything other than his own distress simply faded away as Daniel concentrated on pushing back the pain and swallowing rather than inhaling the blood. With an effort, he rolled onto his side and, after what seemed an eternity of suffering, tentatively raised himself onto his knees. The pain had abated somewhat and he was relieved to find the world no longer spun violently. His relief did not last, as he looked up to see that Panter sat at his side, grinning maniacally.

 

* * *

  
  
"O'Neill." Teal'c's voice was hushed. "I hear something, up ahead."  
  
They all stopped on a dime, waiting. They crouched amid the low bushes until Jack felt his knees begin to cramp up. He trusted the Jaffa's senses more than he trusted his own, but it had been more than just a few moments and as hard as he tried, he heard nothing. He was tempted to say so, but Carter beat him to it.  
  
"Teal'c, I don't hear anyth ..."  
  
Carter was shushed as both he and Teal'c raised their hands in warning. There it was... a barely perceptible shuffling and a low, soft, intermittent sound Jack couldn't place; something unnatural and disturbing.  
  
With small jerks of his head, he gave a silent command to fan out, indicating the areas he wished them to move out toward. With well-practiced attentiveness, they stalked the faint sounds which had captured Teal'c's attention. It took only moments for Teal'c to discover the source.  
  
Ah, God. Tyrrell.  
  
Jack and Carter pelted after Teal'c as he ran over to Tyrrell, sweeping the surrounding area carefully with his eyes and staff weapon as he did so. Tyrrell was dragging himself across the dirt, making whimpering and groaning noises through stertorous breathing. Tacky blood caked the side of his head, his neck, and chest. Jack knelt at his side, relying on Teal'c to guard against whatever threat might follow in Tyrrell's path.  
  
"Tyrrell... oh dammit. Tyrrell..." Jack looked up at Carter. So this was what the shots they had heard earlier were all about. They could see the wound, a huge defect in the man's parietal skull on the right side of his head. Tyrrell's eyes were glazed; Jack was pretty certain the young man wasn't seeing anything. He certainly wasn't about to speak, to tell them what happened - his breathing was becoming increasingly irregular by the second.  
  
Consciously schooling his face into an unreadable mask, Jack supported Tyrrell's head and shoulders as the man's life ebbed away, all the while thinking about Daniel who he prayed was close by; hopefully somewhere just up ahead. Up ahead, with Panter. That it was Panter who had done this, had killed his own man, O'Neill had no doubt.  
  
As the ragged breathing slowed to an occasional deep gasp and then disappeared entirely, Jack's rage grew and he felt his careful self-control begin to slip. He'd made a huge mistake. He knew Panter was unstable, that had become quite obvious back at the Stargate. He never should have left Panter in command of anything. The blood on his hands, Tyrrell's blood, was partly due to his misjudgment... it was... was... _Charlie's, Skaara's, Daniel's..._ With a huge effort Jack pulled himself together and carefully slid out from underneath the body.  
  
Shouldering his weapon, he wordlessly directed Teal'c to take point.

 

* * *

  
  
The hand which yanked on his vest was relentless, insistent. Daniel slipped and slid on the hard surface, fighting to maintain his balance on the steep slope. His face throbbed painfully, mercilessly, in time with the rapid beating of his heart. Intermittently, blood from what felt like a laceration on his forehead dripped into his eyes, interfering with his vision. Losing his footing, he suddenly pitched forward as his legs flew out from under him. One knee impacted a sizable rock with an audible thwack.  
  
Panter's low growl was immediate, and the pressure against his shoulder and neck increased as the hand pulled at him even more sharply. The owner of the hand, Rykert, made a small whining noise as Panter shoved the menacing end of the rifle into the young Marine's face.  
  
"Keep him moving, Rykert. I'm not going to tell you again."  
  
The three of them struggled up the sharply pitched wall, making their way up the cliff face. Showers of dirt and rockfall pelted down behind them as they scrambled, grabbing at small outcroppings of rock and whatever scrub was firmly rooted enough to support their weight. Panter prodded at Rykert incessantly and stabbed him with the end of the rifle whenever he felt the pace was getting too slow. In turn, Rykert hauled on Daniel's collar, both supporting him and urging him on.  
  
According to Rykert's latest furtively whispered report on their progress, they were close to being about a hundred feet up. Daniel was glad he couldn't see well enough to get a clear visual of their situation. Unfortunately, his mind filled in the blanks all too efficiently. At first it had just been a steep uphill hike, strenuous but manageable. That only lasted for about thirty feet though, as the slope became steeper and the going more and more precarious. Now, safe forward progress was almost impossible. It had gotten to the point they needed to find foot and hand holds just to keep stationary, never mind to climb. For every three feet up, Daniel slid two feet down now... and Panter was becoming increasingly irate.  
  
The sharp pain in his knee stole Daniel's breath away and with it he felt intense nausea rise, robbing him of the ability to continue on. Lurching back from Rykert, he allowed himself to fall flat out onto his stomach on the slope, sliding backward slightly as the thin top layer of looser dirt gave way under his weight. A fresh shower of dirt and rock tumbled noisily down the slope behind him.  
  
"I... I can't..."  
  
Panter's reaction to his complaint was immediate. Daniel's head was pulled sharply backward as Panter yanked on his hair. "You will."  
  
Daniel tried to ignore him, swallowed the bile which had risen in his throat, and directed both his attention and a verbal response to Rykert. "This is impossible... we'll all be killed here. Go... you need to go..."  
  
Enraged, Panter let go of his hair and brought the butt of the weapon around to slam hard into Daniel's upper back. The wind knocked out of him, Daniel's nausea quickly faded in favour of the need for air. He wasn't certain if he should feel grateful or not, for that small dispensation. As his gasping respirations slowly evened out, yet another developing bruise made itself well known. Okay, so... not... grateful.  
  
Daniel could only duck his head and suck in a breath of anticipation as Panter raised the rifle for another go at him. Rykert yelled out and lunged at the officer, grabbing the rifle barrel just as the butt swung around for the second blow. "Stop it! He's right! You want him to be able to read the symbols, don't you? Stop it!"  
  
Rykert's raised voice reverberated off the nearby cliff face. Daniel buried his face in the dirt and waited for Rykert's punishment, bitterly chastising himself for having put the young man in that position. He never should have said anything. Daniel knew that by helping him manage the climb, Rykert had been doing his best to protect him from both the possibility of a nasty tumble and Panter's wrath. Now it would be Rykert who would take the fall.  
  
Panter tried to wrest the gun barrel from Rykert's grasp and sure enough, in doing so, caused both men to lose their balance. Daniel grunted as they fell against him and suddenly he felt himself sliding - sliding, as the combination of their weight and the angle of the impact dislodged the compacted layer of soil on which he lay. He grabbed wildly at the small tufts of scrub next to him, but they weren't rooted firmly enough and the next thing he knew, he was on his side rapidly picking up speed as he slid further down the slope, the sharp edges of small outcroppings of rock digging into him as he passed over them, sliding...  
  
..and then he abruptly stopped, his lower back and hip coming up hard against the edge of a larger upthrust of rock. He looked above him, to where Rykert and Panter stared in shock at him. They were at least fifteen feet higher. He had slipped a fair ways down, and Daniel knew if it wasn't for the rock he was now resting against -  
  
Panter motioned to him to climb back up, and Daniel both literally and figuratively dug in his heels. "No way."  
  
"Jackson, get back up here..." The M16 swung not his way, but around to point at Rykert.  
  
Daniel decided he had to take a chance with the deranged man. There was no way he was capable of making it up this slope in one piece, and it was clear Panter needed him. He only hoped Panter had enough self-control left to not shoot Rykert in a fit of rage. "No. Look, you can shoot him, but then you won't have anyone to haul me up there, will you? And if you do it anyway, there's no way I'll translate anything for you. I thought the whole point of this was that you wanted to get back to Earth?" Daniel mentally crossed his fingers and pretended to ignore Panter's increasingly inarticulate sounds of anger, glancing down the slope behind him. If he could just get Panter to allow Rykert to come down here, just maybe the two of them... if they moved fast enough...  
  
"I won't climb up to you. I can't. I'm not capable; it'd be suicide. This fall I just had should tell you that."  
  
Daniel swiped at the gummy blood on his face, wincing as his hand came into painful contact with some embedded shards of glass he'd missed removing. "I can't do it, Panter. You... you hurt me. I can't make it - you have to send Rykert back down to help..."  
  
An enraged snarl accompanied the spate of small rocks which pelted down as Panter launched himself forward, slipping and sliding to where Daniel lay. "Nobody goes back down..." He slid into Daniel feet first, one foot coming up against Daniel's hip and the other ending up precariously close to that most delicate of locations. Daniel felt the outcropping behind his hip vibrate with the impact, but it was holding. For the moment.  
  
Panter leaned close, grabbed at Daniel's jacket and shook him, slammed him up against the rock which vibrated once again and then... _cracked_. Just as Daniel was about to contradict Panter's last statement about nobody going back down - to warn him about the outcrop which was about to give way - the words stuck in his throat at a new development. A sudden burst of static followed by a small, tinny voice floated in the air between their chests.

 

* * *

 

 

**  
Part Three**

 

As Teal'c made his way upward as quickly and quietly as he could, he suddenly heard O'Neill's voice come from his comm. Surprised at the unexpected break in their agreed-upon stealth, he stopped. Looking up, he could see Rykert half-laying, half-sitting on the slope perhaps a bit more than sixty feet above him. Teal'c realized he could no longer see Major Panter and Daniel Jackson where they had been, when he had last looked up.

There had been several occasions where small amounts of rock and dirt had showered down from their location, the last one having been just a few moments before. Teal'c's heart jumped in his chest. Had he been too involved in his own climb to notice... had his friend fallen?

The voice from the radio indicated otherwise. "Panter! We're right below you, Major. Move away from Dr. Jackson. Right now."

So. It was another matter, not a fall, which caused Colonel O'Neill to abandon their attempt to surprise Major Panter. Teal'c resumed his climb, still seeking the shelter of whatever brush and rock outcrops there might be, trying to move as silently as he could. It was for this reason - the need to remain undetected for as long as possible - that Teal'c's progress had been slow and erratic as he sought the routes which would provide as much cover as possible from the view from above.

While O'Neill had made voice contact with Panter, he had not told the man that Teal'c was climbing up to him. Continued stealth was advisable in order to prevent further complicating matters. Something unfortunate must have occurred for O'Neill to have altered the plan.

If Major Panter had harmed Daniel Jackson - Teal'c picked up the pace.

 

* * *

  
  
_"Panter! We're right below you, Major. Move away from Dr. Jackson. Right now."_  
  
Oh God... _Jack_. That thought was about all Daniel had time for. Daniel felt Panter lurch hard against him as the man tried to scramble to his knees, his eyes and his weapon searching the downslope behind them. With a sickening noise and an abrupt snap Daniel could feel clear through to his spine, the thin buttress of rock holding them in place gave way.  
  
Daniel was falling. Not slipping, not sliding, but actually _falling_ in an uncontrolled, dangerous tumble of flailing arms and legs. At first, as he flipped over into the beginning of a backward somersault from the sudden absence of the support that had been at his hip, Daniel tried to catch himself by extending his arms... only to have his hands and wrists impact painfully against the rocky surface. As if his arms were a lever and his hands against the ground a fulcrum, he was launched head over heels, no more able to organize his limbs into any sort of defensive posture than he was to stop his chaotic descent.  
  
His sense of time and perception distorted. He seemed to be falling so slowly that he could make out each minute detail of the slope and the individual rocks that punished him, and yet so terribly quickly that his sense of where he was and the position of his body in time and space was completely overwhelmed. Distant shouting blended with the nearer sound of Panter's outraged cry, of the crunching and thudding as he struck the ground on his way down, of the loud thrumming of his heartbeat in his ears and his own pained grunts upon each impact.  
  
Just as the inane thought crossed his mind that he was going to meet up with Jack and the rest of SG-1 after all, Daniel's head participated in a particularly solid introduction to a largish chunk of rock, and awareness of anything and everything... disappeared.

 

* * *

  
  
Shit... oh shit... Jack ran to his left to get a better view up the hill as he saw a large cloud of dust suddenly rise from where he'd seen Panter's head and shoulders - from where the Major apparently had come to rest after following Daniel's slide down the slope. He could still see Rykert up there, perched precariously on his knees, now with one arm outstretched in the direction of the downslope in an ominously desperate-looking gesture.  
  
He thumbed his comm switch as he went. "Teal'c... do you see..." As Jack rounded a rise in the ground his view immediately was unobstructed, and what he saw froze him to the spot. Suddenly it wasn't necessary to ask Teal'c. Instantly, what was happening - seemingly happening at lightning speed - was all too apparent. In a hail of dirt and rock, partially obscured by the dust, something - _someone_ \- was falling down the steep hill, picking up speed in a jumble of arms and legs and uprooted weeds. As the body bounced off a particularly large rock and was catapulted higher into the air, Jack recognized Daniel.  
  
Oh God. His thumb, not having had time to even twitch, was still on the comm switch. "Teal'c! It's Daniel... can you get over... _hurry_ , to your _left-go-to-the-left..._ " Then he caught sight of the Jaffa as Teal'c moved with the grace and sure-footed speed of a cougar across the lower cliff face, bounding over to intercept Daniel.  
  
"Sir." Carter grabbed his sleeve and indicated something to their right, up the hill. "Look, up there... I think it's Panter."  
  
Unwilling to tear his eyes off Daniel's plunge toward Teal'c, he waved a hand at her. "Go. Follow along from down here." He was only vaguely aware of her hand leaving his arm, of her departure. Jack winced as Daniel's head and upper body slammed into a small boulder and he did an abrupt flip, landing hard before once again resuming the ungainly tumble. Teal'c was pretty much there, positioned where it looked as though Daniel might end up, provided the line of his fall didn't change. And it didn't. Jack watched anxiously as Teal'c, bouncing slightly like a prizefighter ever ready to leap to one side or the other, carefully judged the rate and direction of Daniel's descent. There was a new boneless quality to the fall, and Jack realized with a sick feeling that upon the last big impact Daniel likely had been knocked unconscious.  
  
Teal'c dropped to his knees and pushed himself backward with perfect timing, neatly fielding their friend against his thighs and falling forward protectively on top of Daniel as the young man's momentum drove them both into a slide further down the hill. A slide which, thanks to Teal'c, was fairly short and almost perfectly controlled. Almost... but not quite. Jack bounded and scrambled up the thirty-some-odd-feet to his friends, to find Teal'c still draped over a motionless Daniel. The Jaffa was gasping slightly, his face screwed up in pain.  
  
"Teal'c? Let me see..." Jack helped him to a sitting position, desperately trying not to look too closely at Daniel for the moment. Checking out Teal'c had to come first. The younger man was already out cold, and the last thing Jack needed was two team members out of commission on this slope. Teal'c's hands started toward his abdomen, and it didn't take much imagination to realize just exactly where it was those hands were heading.  
  
"Junior?"  
  
"Yes... No..." Even now, the Jaffa was recovering his breath. "A blow to my womb. A stray rock, I believe, or perhaps an elbow or knee. But it is all right." He straightened up some but despite that and his next words, Jack could see that it wasn't perfectly all right... at least, not yet. "It will be fine. There is no permanent damage. See to Daniel Jackson."  
  
"Yeah... right." Jack wasn't completely reassured, but there was some urgency here. Daniel lay in a disorganized sprawl, his back to them and his face to the ground. He hadn't moved and his breathing seemed too noisy. Jack leaned over his friend and gently shifted Daniel onto his side, re-arranging arms and legs into as close an approximation of a rescue position as he could manage on the slope.  
  
"Damn." Sure enough, Daniel was completely unresponsive. Even worse, his face was a battered mess. Jack felt his anger rise; most of the blood on Daniel's face and hands was old, either dried or tacky. The bruises, the black eyes, the messy laceration on Daniel's forehead, all had to be hours old. There were small glass fragments embedded in the skin around his eyes. _Panter's work_. Had to be. Jack's hands involuntarily curled into fists. Daniel shouldn't be here, especially not lying here injured, because of Panter. He shouldn't be here on this planet _at all_. He wasn't ready, he'd only just returned from the dead, he shouldn't _be here_ -  
  
Jack felt a nudge on his shoulder and looked up to find Teal'c staring at him. The Jaffa raised one eyebrow and inclined his head toward Daniel. Jack realized he had been distracted by his feelings. Damn. So, in truth, just who was it really who wasn't ready? He nodded sharply to Teal'c and refocused on Daniel, trying to shove his growing rage to the back of his mind.  
  
There was a large lump and a gash on the back of Daniel's head which spilled fresh blood. Other than a multitude of scrapes and abrasions, the worst of which were to Daniel's hands and his swollen left knee, Jack could see no other noteworthy apparently new injuries. He sat back on his heels, trying to decide just who - Daniel, or Teal'c - he should try to get safely down the hill first.  
  
"Sir..." Carter slid to a stop in front of him. Jack was startled; he hadn't heard her approach. He looked up to see a worried frown on her face. Just behind her was Rykert. "I went up after Panter, Sir, but he was gone." Her wide eyes held the question which her mouth didn't seem to want to spit out.  
  
"He's okay, Carter... I think he's okay. Took a pretty good bash on the head, though."  
  
"Let me see." Then she was right there, her hands gently probing Daniel's head, fingers moving through his bloodied hair. "It's a pretty big bump. Sir, did you check his pupils? His breathing isn't right..."  
  
Jack felt stupid. Not only had he let his anger get away from him and then let Carter and Rykert sneak up on him, he hadn't even checked Daniel out thoroughly. No, definitely not ready. Carter spared him a quick glance and renewed her efforts in assessing Daniel's status. She checked his pulses, rolled back one eyelid and then the other. Seemingly satisfied, she flashed a slight, relieved smile at her teammates. Jack watched her as she gently palpated the swollen bridge of Daniel's nose and the bruised cheekbone, and carefully poked at the glass fragments.  
  
"I don't think anything is broken, Sir. It's a bit hard to tell, with the swelling. His breathing... I think it sounds like that because of his nose; it's all blocked up. These pieces of glass should come out without any problem. I don't think any got in his eyes." She looked at Jack, raised her eyebrows. "His glasses broke in the fall?"  
  
"Panter hit him in the face with the M16." All three members of SG-1 looked up in surprise. Jack had forgotten Rykert was even there.  
  
"He - hit - him - with, _what_?" Jack's tone was nearly as ominous as the rage which steadily grew inside of him, and his feelings obviously came through loud and clear. Rykert slithered a foot up the slope and huddled in his own arms as if to try to stave off an icy chill. Jack felt Teal'c loom up behind him and by the look on Rykert's face, the Jaffa's expression must have held even more disfavour than did Jack's own.  
  
Rykert stammered out an explanation. Panter had shot Paulson, accidentally. Jack heard a deep snort of disbelief over his shoulder, coming from Teal'c. Rykert, his voice shaking, his words slow and tenuous as if forcefully being pulled up from deep within a well, filled them in on the rest of it. Panter had gone completely dark side after Paulson's shooting; Daniel had tried to intercede on Tyrrell's behalf but Panter had shot Tyrrell anyway, and clobbered Daniel. Then Panter had forced them to climb the slope.  
  
Carter was sitting next to Daniel. While listening to Rykert, Jack had absently watched as she repeatedly ran her fingers through Daniel's hair, gently caressing his head with long soothing strokes of her hands. The action was comforting, a source of consolation. Suddenly she stopped, and with that the reassurance stopped. With its loss Jack immediately felt a resurrection of his anger. Mentally, silently desperate to somehow, in some small way, share in the expression of attachment he could not himself display, he urged Carter to start the agreeable movement again. She didn't, though. Instead, she asked the precise questions certain to feed the fire blazing in Jack's chest.  
  
"Rykert, Major Panter beat up Daniel? Where did he think he was taking you guys? I don't understand. Why is Daniel _even here_?"  
  
"When the SGC contacted us, Major Panter told them Colonel O'Neill asked for Dr. Jackson. I think Major Panter was scared, and he thought Dr. Jackson would be able to figure out the DHD better if..."  
  
"And you _let_ him?" Jack's words came out in a roar of anger as he reared up from his crouch, leaning forward toward Rykert. The abrupt change in his center of gravity on the slope caused him to slide back into Teal'c. In order to compensate he leaned even farther forward, reaching out with his hands to support himself, and inadvertently leaned on Daniel's thigh. The young man let out a low, long moan.  
  
"Daniel?" Carter leaned over him, her fingers resuming their gentle travel through his hair. In response, he let out another moan and his eyelids began to flicker. Carter turned to O'Neill. "Sir, we should get him down off this slope. He might be disoriented when he wakes up."  
  
"Okay, yeah... we don't want that." Jack had a sudden vision of a confused and panicked Daniel starting a human landslide of epic proportions. And on the menu tonight, a full five-course roadkill dinner, SGC-style. Complete with special sauce. He looked about them, then down the getting-on-to-forty-feet of steeply sloping dirt and rock to the level ground below, then back at Teal'c.  
  
"Can you make it down on your own?" At Teal'c's slight nod and Carter's worried look Jack clarified his question, both to give Carter the information she needed and to reassure himself. "So, if you go down on your own, it won't make Junior any worse?" He turned to Carter. "Junior got a gutload of Daniel... not feeling too good."  
  
"My symbiote is recovering. There is very little pain. I can manage on my own, O'Neill." Teal'c indicated Daniel. "It will require the three of you to safely maneuver the slope with him."  
  
A hesitant voice came from above them. "Uh, no... actually, Sir, we could do it safely with just two of us, or we could go down all together, with Teal'c too..."  
  
Jack gave Rykert his best 'I think you're nuts but get on with it anyway' look. As Rykert nodded, obviously understanding the look, Jack noticed just how much the young man's tentative and self-effacing manner reminded him of how Daniel oftentimes had been earlier on in their relationship. And sometimes, still was.  
  
"Well, the best way to get down... I mean, I think the safest way, is to toboggan."  
  
"To...? Rykert, this stuff..." Jack kicked at the dirt and rock under his feet. "...isn't exactly snow. We can't just sit on it and whiz comfortably down to the bottom."  
  
"Oh, no, Sir, I think I know what he means though. The slope is plenty steep enough that you can propel yourselves along, even if it is dirt and rock." Carter positioned herself on her rear end and dug her heel into the ground, demonstrating. "You two can support Daniel in the middle, like kids do on a sled. You can push in your heels to either get going over the high spots or the rocks, or to slow down if you need to. It would be uncomfortable, but very safe."  
  
Jack rolled his eyes at the thought of it. But the alternative was to try to carry, or drag, Daniel down the slope... and for the first very steep twenty-five feet, that would be a nightmare. "All right. Carter, you help Teal'c. Rykert and I will play sandwich with Danny here."  
  
So with Daniel leaning back against him, tightly held upright between himself and Rykert - the unconscious man's legs around Rykert's waist in front and his head nestled into the hollow of Jack's shoulder behind - Jack impatiently played the part of caboose. Like Carter had warned, it was uncomfortable, and slow going. Far too slow for Jack's liking. They moved forward a foot or two at a time by pulling back with their feet and sliding their butts, and controlled the faster progress over the initial steep portions by digging in their heels. Sore butts were the order of the day.  
  
While Jack knew it was the best way to play safe - no one was about to go flying head over heels anywhere - he felt rather foolish. Somehow, this tandem male hugging and cautious creeping along seemed unbearably less than masculine and he was just about to call a halt, to stand and just scoop Daniel up, when he felt his young friend stir against his chest. Rykert apparently felt it as well and quickly dug in his heels and moved to release his grip on Daniel's legs. Faster than Jack thought would have been possible, Daniel passed from limp unconsciousness into a full-fledged, flailing panic attack. Pulling his legs sharply backward out from under Rykert's arms and bucking forward against the tight confines of the human sandwich, Daniel managed to knock Rykert off to one side. Jack wasn't ready for it - in a wild grab at Daniel he just managed to snag the back of Daniel's vest and one arm and the two of them ended up sliding face first down the slope.  
  
Fortunately, it wasn't quite so steep any more. They traveled eight to ten jarring feet and then Carter and Rykert were there, hands reaching out to stop their forward momentum and both restrain and protect Daniel's arms and legs as he apparently tried to get his feet under him on the uneven ground. Jack watched him thrash, and noted that the kid's eyes were still closed. Despite being so active, Daniel wasn't really with them at all... at least, not yet. Belatedly, he was glad of Rykert's idea; if he had tried to carry Daniel down and this had happened - Jack felt faintly foolish about his misplaced male pride.  
  
The thrashing only lasted a moment longer and then Daniel was still once more. Carter tapped on his cheek, spoke loudly to him, and pressed down firmly on his thumbnail. There was absolutely no response.

 

* * *

  
  
Panter moved cautiously along the slope. He'd had to go a bit higher to gain the shelter of the large growth of scrub to his left, in order to stay out of Carter's line of sight as she paralleled him from below. She was good; she'd managed to stay with him for a fair ways until he had entered the low bushes. He'd heard her start to climb, but he was a good sixty feet above her and knew she wouldn't come very far. Just far enough to decide she had lost him.  
  
Panter anchored himself. It wasn't quite so steep here. The native plants had been able to root deeply into the rocky soil, finding this slightly flatter spot a good home, and for Panter it was safe haven as well. He was in no danger of sliding, so he settled himself in and rose up slightly until he caught sight of SG-1 and Rykert. They were almost to the bottom now... close enough that when Jackson flipped out and took himself and O'Neill down the hill a ways, no real damage was done to O'Neill.  
  
Too bad. Panter needed Jackson, but he couldn't care less about the others. He hefted the M16. Maybe he ought to take care of this right here and now. They couldn't go back home with him. Paulson... Paulson was an accident; he hadn't meant to do it. But once it was done, especially with Jackson standing right there, it couldn't be undone. O'Neill would have him in the brig the minute they stepped out of the Stargate. That couldn't happen.  
  
No, they wouldn't be going back with him - none of them; not even Jackson, in the end. There was too much at stake. Panter's military career was everything to him; he was going right to the top... he just knew it. His face darkened. Not for the first time, he damned the day he had been seconded for the top secret, prestigious program code named as 'Bluebook'. Hell, it had seemed a good idea at the time, an honour to be so trusted and a good way to cement his reputation as an efficient officer who was solid material for promotion to the highest level.  
  
But, oh shit. He had actually found himself doing the most hazardous duty he could have ever imagined, going to _other planets_ fighting a war against alien parasites that could burrow into a man and steal his body. It hadn't taken him long to work out that in the eyes of his superiors, maybe he wasn't treasured top echelon material at all... rather, he was _expendable_. Panter's chest seized up with the resentment which had been building in him these last months. If he resigned from the Program, they'd think him a coward and his career would stall. But if he stayed...  
  
Then suddenly here he was, stranded on some alien world and that asshole O'Neill had refused to do the one thing that could get him home... bringing Jackson here. _Jackson_. Panter's chest tightened further. The archaeologist represented everything and everyone in life that Panter hated. Jackson was smart, young, supposedly good-looking; everyone seemed to tolerate the stupid geek and women actually seemed attracted to him. But most infuriating of all, without even trying, without even going through the rigours of military life and adherence to the military cultural codes that defined which behaviors were to be rewarded and which were not, Jackson was _there_... at the top, at Hammond's shoulder.  
  
Panter snarled. Compared to himself Jackson was an uncoordinated physical weakling, the worst shot at the range and the last in on the training runs. The little prick didn't know nor care about military protocol, he refused to follow direct orders, he talked back to his superiors, he laughed and joked with any female officer he wanted to, sometimes he even _ran_ in the corridors _for no good reason..._  
  
But now Doctor-everybody-loves-him-anyway-Jackson was his only way out. Jackson could get him back home.  
  
 _Unless_ \- It occurred to Panter that just maybe Jackson would be typically stupid enough to not care if he himself ended up stranded here for the rest of his... very short... life. Doctor-Spacemonkey just might be enough of a priss to take offense at the sight of his team mowed down in a hail of bullets. As that image - Jackson kneeling in shocked disbelief as the others jerked and jigged and spurted blood all around him - flashed across Panter's disturbed mind, he vaguely realized there was something incongruous going on down below that he maybe ought to try to figure out.  
  
He peered at the group of people below, and it slowly dawned on him that of the five of them, the only one he needed alive was the only one who looked more dead than alive. Jackson was laying still again, half-hidden by Carter as she bent over him. Swearing, Panter fumbled at his vest and pulled out his binoculars.

* * *

  
  
Someone was watching him. The overwhelmingly disturbing feeling that he was being observed - studied - penetrated the haze in Daniel's mind and helped to clear away the last remaining vestiges of semi-consciousness. He instantly became aware of the pain in his head; the incredible throbbing he could both feel and hear. He strained to listen past the deep thrumming, but couldn't make any sense of what else he heard - vague rustling noises, muted crackling, an intermittent scraping sound. The air smelled unfamiliar. Where the hell was he?  
  
Cautiously, Daniel opened his eyes and then immediately squeezed them shut again as abrupt panic welled up. Blackness. He couldn't see anything.  
  
There was an increase in the volume of the rustling and scraping and suddenly he felt a weight on his chest. The weight increased, pressing down and moving in a small circle now, right on his sternum. Quickly, the sensation became painful. He became aware of a sound he could interpret; buried under the throb in his head and the new pain in his chest was a familiar voice.  
  
"Daniel, oh please, wake up..."  
  
The fingers rubbing on his sternum increased their effort, and crying out against the sharp pressure Daniel snapped his eyes open and tried to knock Sam's hand away. Immediately, she withdrew her fingers from his chest and placed them on his face instead.  
  
"Daniel! It's okay, it's okay..."  
  
He reached up and grabbed her hand. He could still feel the burning pressure on his sternum even though she'd stopped. "Ah... God! What are you trying to do to me? That hurts!"  
  
He heard a soft apology, gently muttered, and felt her breath against the side of his face. The sound reminded him that he couldn't see, and a resurgence of his panic overwhelmed the pain in his head and chest. He twisted, trying to roll over to face toward where he thought she must be. "Sam... Sam... I can't see you..." The world tipped alarmingly to one side and he suddenly felt nauseated.  
  
Gentle pressure was applied to his shoulders. "It's okay, relax. It's nighttime, Daniel. It's dark. I was just trying to re-check how deep you were. This is the first time you've been with it enough to object... sorry."  
  
How deep? Deep, what? There was a noise and he felt her move a bit farther away for a moment. When she returned to his side, he realized he could see her dark form looming over him, outlined against a dark greyish backdrop. "You've been unconscious, drifting in and out. Do you remember?"  
  
Night? "No. I, I don't... Sam, where are we? What's happened?" As Daniel peered through the gloom he realized the dark backdrop now looked familiar. It was a tent wall, one of the small two-man field tents they used for longer excursions. They were... were... agh! Where? _Somewhere bad_.  
  
Sam settled herself next to him, and he felt both her hands on his face. She gently turned his head toward her and one hand disappeared, to be replaced with a small beam of light which blinded him and sent sharp spears of pain through his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and moaned.  
  
"Sorry. Here, I'll point it away a bit. Okay, open your eyes; I need to get a look at you." She pried up his eyelids one at a time and the gentle fingers probed his face and head. "Good. Daniel, I know your head hurts. Other than that, how are you? Any pain anywhere?"  
  
He closed his eyes once again and with difficulty pushed awareness of the headache and nausea onto a back shelf, doing a mental survey of his body. His face felt hot and throbbed dully, especially his forehead, around his eyes, and over the bridge of his nose. A bit of a sore back when he moved, but not too bad. Why? What the hell happened? Wrists, palms; minor annoyances. Left knee. He flexed his leg and groaned when something in his knee caught and clicked. Oh, yeah. That was a good one, all right. "My knee. Sam, what happened?"  
  
"Your knee? Is that the worst of it?"  
  
He felt annoyed at her question. Why wouldn't she just tell him what the hell was going on? He started to nod, but cut the movement short as pain flared in his head. Damn.  
  
"Well, that's good, I guess. Daniel, you don't remember waking up those times before? What's the last thing you do remember?"  
  
He carefully shook his head, trying to both banish the irritation which rose and to clear away the confusion. "Uhm, I think... General Hammond... No, wait, I remember. We're on P6V221. The DHD. Jack sent for me to read the DHD." It slowly came back to him, and the dread which settled in his stomach felt like a huge coiled viper readying to lunge. "But... he _didn't_... did he, Sam?"  
  
"No, Daniel. He didn't."  
  
Panter. The snake lunged, ripping open a hole in his gut. Daniel bolted upright, visions of Paulson falling back as large bloody holes appeared in his chest, memories of fire ripping at his face as Panter nailed him with the M16. "God! Sam, it's Panter. We're in danger, Sam. He's dangerous... he killed..." He broke off as a wave of dizziness and renewed nausea hit him.  
  
A noise at the tent entrance turned into Jack's voice. "Tyrrell, and Paulson. We know, Daniel. Don't worry, we've got it under control. Carter, lemme in there, will you..." With much scraping and crunching and a few muttered curses, Sam and Jack traded places in the confined area. Hunkered down next to Daniel, Jack's voice became sotto-smooth, pleasant to a fault. "Daniel... just what are you doing here?"  
  
Daniel had heard that tone many times. Many, many times. It meant he was in trouble; that Jack thought he had just done something incredibly stupid. He decided to ignore it, hoping that if he did so, it would just _go away_. "When did it get to be night? Jack, how did I get here with you guys?"  
  
"You took on a mountain and lost, Daniel. You don't remember?"  
  
Sudden irritation surged uncontrollably. Daniel wished they would stop asking him that and just tell him exactly _where and when the hell he was_ and what was going on. "Jack, for Christ sake. _No_ , I don't _remember_. Look, why don't you just tell me the story and then we can move on from there..."  
  
Daniel couldn't see Jack's expression but when he spoke Daniel heard the increased concern in his voice, and wondered what it was all about. "It's okay. Everything's okay. Your head hurts, Danny? Do you need something for it?"  
  
Daniel started to shake his head but the world did a nauseating flip and he gasped, reaching out... for what, he wasn't certain. Hands took his own, and he felt the small tablets Jack pressed into his palm. Okay, well, had he been able to complete the negative movement it would have been a lie, anyway, but Daniel very much doubted he would be able to keep the medication down even if he did swallow it. He turned his hand over, trying to give them back. Jack simply clasped Daniel's hand with his own, trapping the tablets in Daniel's palm.  
  
"Okay, here it is in a nutshell. Panter beat the snot out of you, dragged you up the side of the Empire State Building, you fell off and hit your head on the way down, Teal'c saved your butt, we dragged you back here and... anything else you're burning to know about?"  
  
Oh, yeah, lots. The trouble was, Daniel didn't think he had the energy or tolerance to ask. His headache was fierce, but the increasingly intense vertigo and nausea were just about more than he could bear. Hell. Why did Jack have to be so damn flip... why couldn't the man just _tell_ him. Angry words rose to Daniel's lips, but Sam beat him to it. Daniel couldn't see her in the dark, but just as he opened his mouth to complain, he heard the exasperated sigh that came from the direction of the tent flap.  
  
"Colonel. It might help to let him in on just where _here_ is...." Her tone softened as she addressed Daniel. "We're camped out back at the Stargate, Daniel. You've been drifting in and out of consciousness for well over four hours. We were starting to get really worried. Don't you remember waking up and talking to Teal'c and Rykert on the way back here?"  
  
Oh, please. "Look, when I remember something else, I'll let you know. Quit asking, okay... it's... I don't remember." At least one unasked question was answered; Teal'c and Rykert were around here somewhere. "What about Panter?"  
  
"He took off. We're keeping our eyes open for him. Daniel, come morning, you're going to have to be mobile. It's a strenuous hike to the cliff village." With a flick oh his wrist, Jack turned their hands over and the pills fell into Daniel's palm again. "Take these things. You need them."  
  
"Jack, I'll just puke them up. I can't. Not right now." Daniel was aware of his own voice rising in both volume and intensity, but that was just fine with him. "Just leave me alone, okay. Anyway, why do we have to go there? I think Rykert said before that you guys were filming the inscriptions..."  
  
Sam's voice held concern. "Take it easy, Daniel. We did film them, but we don't have anything to play it back on, so if you aren't fit to make it up there then I don't see how..."  
  
"No... no." Geez, when did Sam get so dim-witted? "Just use the MALP. Besides, General Hammond will dial in. I was going to check things out here and come up with a list of things we needed, and he'd send them. He's organizing a generator, and a laptop with my translation files. If he hasn't sent it already then all we need to do is use the MALP for now, and wait..."  
  
Jack tried to get a word in edgewise. "Slow down, Danny..."  
  
"No, Jack. Listen, I'm sure he must have already tried by now, when no one was here. I'm sure he'll keep trying until he makes contact. We need to make a list of what we need, like all my books and stuff, the computer, food... everything."  
  
The only sound Daniel heard was a faint rustling as Jack shifted his position.  
  
"Jack... What?"  
  
"The SGC has been trying to make contact. The Stargate's been activated twice so far since we got you back here, Daniel. But Panter must have gotten here before us. The MALP is smashed."  
  
Cold settled in the pit of Daniel's stomach. His head felt like it would explode and the act of merely sitting up was stealing all of his energy. He wasn't sure he could even think straight, never mind decipher complex foreign symbols without any tools or assistance. "All of it? We can't transmit or receive anything? We can't transmit your recording for them to work on at that end?" Daniel heard the sharp edge of panic enter his own voice. Oh, God - "But, he hasn't sent anything at all? I mean, surely he'll just send the stuff anyway. Or, at least, he'll send another probe..."  
  
Jack spoke softly. "No. If that was going to happen, it would have happened already. You just said the SGC was going to dial back in. It's likely Panter had his own conversation with General Hammond before he destroyed the MALP, and we have no way of knowing what he told him. The General won't send anything unless he knows for sure it's us on the receiving end. You know that, Daniel."  
  
"The Colonel's right. Major Panter probably gave the SGC some sort of explanation for the lack of a video feed from the MALP before he trashed it." The struggle to keep his stomach contents where they belonged escalated alarmingly as Daniel listened to Sam join with Jack in irrevocably placing their fate firmly and solely on his aching shoulders. "But you know General Hammond, Daniel. He must have decided to dial in every so often no matter what Major Panter told him. Even though there's no picture, he may not know the audio for the MALP is permanently disabled. It's pretty unlikely he'll send anything unless we respond verbally, so he knows we're here to receive it."  
  
Desperately, Daniel tried to make sense of it and find a way out. "But... no, see, surely when we don't respond he'll send another MALP. He'll... do something." God, please, _something_.  
  
Jack broke back into the conversation. "We can't just sit around here doing nothing until that happens. If it ever will happen. We don't know what Panter might have told him. Take the pills, Daniel, and get some sleep." He settled himself down on his side next to Daniel. "You'll need to be at your best. It's going to be a long day tomorrow." A hand closed over the one in which Daniel held the tablets, and gently shoved. "Take them. I'll be right here if you need anything."

 

* * *

  
  
"I don't like this, Sir" Sam whispered over her shoulder to the Colonel. She watched as, fifteen feet down the path, Teal'c and Rykert flanked Daniel as he limped his way along in a slow and unsteady climb. Teal'c had one hand placed on Daniel's back, both to steady and to propel him upward. "He's feeling sick. I know that's to be expected, but it's more than that. He's just not himself..."  
  
O'Neill didn't answer. His grim expression implied he was well aware not only of Daniel's physical problems, but also his uncharacteristic irritability. Sam knew the previous night had been rough for both men. From her position by the fire she had heard the frequent retching and Daniel's testy rebuffs when the Colonel had tried to help.  
  
She hefted her heavy pack. Although Sam had really dreaded lugging everything up here, she knew it was the only thing to do. She had no illusions. Even if Daniel was able to concentrate enough to work on the symbols, it would be slow going; setting up camp on the mountain rather than at the Stargate was really the only viable option. It was far easier to copy the DHD symbols and take them to the village for comparison, than to try to transcribe the hundreds of symbols they had found there. They couldn't communicate with the SGC anyway, and there was Panter to look out for. They could set up a much more defensible position at the village than they could down in the open valley.  
  
"Okay. Let's take a break here, folks." The lagging trio approached, and at O'Neill's words, slowed to a halt. "It gets pretty steep and narrow just around that bend..." O'Neill must have seen the dark look which flashed across Daniel's face at the same time Sam did, because he quickly added to his statement. "It's only for a short bit, then it evens out and widens up again. We'll be there before you know it."  
  
Daniel didn't seem reassured. Sam didn't think he looked particularly anxious either... he looked more annoyed than anything. Her concern for him mounted. They knew he had suffered a fairly major concussion - that was obvious from the long period of unconsciousness and his subsequent confusion and illness during the night, plus the persistent headache and nausea which continued to plague him throughout the new day. But his steadily increasing distractibility and, especially, his emotional irritability were becoming alarming. As she watched him slowly settle on the ground next to Teal'c, Sam prayed to any unspecified deity that might happen to be listening these problems would pass soon. That Daniel would be okay. Not only was he her friend but also, under these circumstances, they couldn't afford for Daniel to be incapacitated.  
  
But... what if it was more than that? What if this was more than just a concussion, and dragging him up here and putting him to work was to make it worse? What would be the right thing to do? Considering her deplorable part in allowing Daniel to be left alone without back-up in that corridor on Klorel's ship, Sam couldn't afford to allow herself overlook his safety again. If there was any possibility that this was more serious than concussion -  
  
Daniel may well be their only way back to Earth, but if her getting home was to be at his expense, Sam wasn't so sure she would feel at home ever again, even in her own living room.

 

* * *

 

**  
Part Four**

It was almost impossible to concentrate. No matter how hard he tried, Daniel couldn't seem to revive that premonition of insight he had experienced at the SGC when he first viewed the altered DHD glyphs. It was unreachable, crushed under monumental exhaustion and discomfort. He knew he had run across this before, somewhere, somehow... but four hours of studying the markings carved into the outer rock walls of the dwellings had brought him no closer to remembering just where or in what context he had encountered similar inscriptions. He had made no progress whatsoever.

As Daniel drew a shaky hand across his mouth and slumped against the wall, pain seared across his forehead and a taut band squeezed around his head, as if it were caught in a vise. He closed his eyes against it. The weakness and nausea he'd valiantly tried to deny existed surged to the forefront and his legs suddenly gave way. Strong hands grasped his shoulders and safely guided him in his unscheduled journey to the ground.

"Shall I call Colonel O'Neill or Captain Carter?" Teal'c's normally impassive tone was soft and full of concern, even though despite his best intentions Daniel had been unmercifully rude to the Jaffa since their arrival there. Guilt joined with the pain and nausea.

Swallowing hard, Daniel only just managed to keep from choking on the bile which rose to the back of his throat. "No, Teal'c. I'm okay. Just a bit nauseated, and tired." He leaned back against the rough stone wall and rubbed his eyes. "Look, I'm sorry I snapped at you before... I don't know what's wrong with... "

"Captain Carter is concerned about the seriousness of your head injury. She has explained to me that persons who suffer from trauma to the brain may exhibit uncharacteristic behavior. We have discussed your ability to undertake this task in your present condition."

Daniel's eyes snapped open. On one level he understood Teal'c was trying to reassure him, to say he need not apologize - that his irritable behavior probably wasn't his fault - but at the same time Daniel felt an overpowering flash of anger at what seemed to be the callous manner in which the Jaffa had chosen to do that. And at the alarming intimation that his headache might be more than just a headache, and at the unspoken suggestion he would fail.

 _"What?"_ Even as the annoyed cry left his lips Daniel recognized how quickly that intense anger had surged. The irritation dissolved as quickly as it had come and an uncomfortable knot of anxiety formed in his chest. Anger was not what he normally would have expected to feel over such a comment... amazement, confusion, yes, and concern his friends were worried he might not be well enough to do what had to be done, and certainly fear for himself. But that burning, overwhelming anger... that just wasn't right.

"I am sorry, Daniel Jackson. Unlike Captain Carter, I feel it is advisable that you be aware of all factors which might influence your success here. You are the only one who can impact our situation. If there is more to your injury than is apparent, that is an important consideration which must be taken into account."

Daniel pushed himself up onto his knees, one hand resting on the wall for support. He took stock of himself, of the marginally diminished nausea, the dizziness, the sharp pains and associated uncomfortable throb of his head. It hadn't gotten any worse than it was before, really... his vision was fine... he felt weak, sure, but he wasn't excessively drowsy or anything, and it had been one full night and close to a full day - what, almost, uhm, twenty-something hours? - since he had hit his head. He was still up and kicking. Surely if it was more than a concussion, if he had a bleed or something _bad_ like that, he'd be getting more drowsy, he'd be disoriented, wouldn't he? Or something?

God, it was hard to concentrate, though. No. That was to be expected. It was okay, he was okay. "No. No, Teal'c... no, it's just a bad headache, that's all. I'm, I'm pretty sure. It's just... hard to think...but that's because the headache is distracting. And I'm tired." There. See, he was all right. None of them could afford for him not to be fine. He was just fine.

"As that may be, I agree with Captain Carter you are not yourself, Daniel Jackson; your behavior is cause for concern. If you feel capable of continuing, I will help you as much as I can. The sooner we solve this puzzle, the sooner you will receive attention."

Oh, hell. Daniel sorely wanted to yell at Teal'c to forget his damn behavior and quit talking in circles. He realized with some chagrin, however, that was exactly the sort of behavior which provoked their concern. "I'm sorry. I, I didn't realize... have I really been that much of a pain in the butt?"

Two voices, rather than one, answered him. Simultaneously, Daniel heard Teal'c's faultlessly honest "Yes" and the sharp counterpoint from Sam as she quickly crossed over to him from the pathway.

"No, Daniel... it's okay. You've been a bit irritable, but that's understandable. You have a heck of a concussion; you're bound to be a bit labile."

Daniel fought the urge to snap at her, to tell her in no uncertain terms that she need not patronize him. He raised his eyebrows - oh, ow, bad idea - and widened his eyes at her in an unmistakable quest for honesty. She glared pointedly at Teal'c. "Boy, Teal'c. Thanks ever so much." Sam turned her attention from the Jaffa to Daniel. "Okay, look, Daniel, you haven't been just a bit irritable. You've been a lot irritable. And you're obviously having trouble concentrating. Nobody wants to jump to any conclusions here; we just want to keep an eye out for you. Like right now, I think you should stop and take a break, maybe close your eyes for awhile, okay?"

Daniel stared up at Sam, searching her face. Her attempt at tact was unwelcome. He suspected it hid an honest assessment which she had decided to keep from him. "You don't need to treat me like a child. You think there's something really bad wrong, that I might get worse instead of better, don't you?" He gathered his thoughts. "You think I should slow down because you're afraid I'm going to get sicker more quickly, if I keep working." He kept the rest of it to himself - the part about her thinking he couldn't do this, and being afraid the rest of them would be stuck here forever because he'd keel over dead before he could translate the glyphs.

He was certain the look on her face confirmed his interpretation. She thought there was something seriously wrong, and he couldn't do it. Great. Really positive thinking. He wanted to rail at her, at both her and Teal'c, to thank them for the wonderful prognosis and all the moral support. They were scaring him shitless. But it occurred to him that the issue of what might be happening in his head really was moot. They didn't exactly have a CT scanner here, and it was a catch 22 anyway. If there was something really awful going on in there - which he seriously doubted - he could either lay around and rest himself to death, or he could work himself to death. And for him, at least, it was a no-brainer as to which it ought to be.

Gathering himself, hoping his voice sounded a lot steadier than he felt, Daniel pointed out, "Sam, if Hammond's not going to send any food or supplies through, we can't afford to go slow here. No matter what anyone thinks might or might not be going on with me." His sore shoulders felt like the weight of two worlds was bearing down on them.

"We can avail ourselves of the water and plant life of this planet should our supplies run out. That is not of concern. It is you who is our most valuable resource, Daniel Jackson, however I do agree with you." The rebellious look Teal'c shot at Carter surprised Daniel. "If there is any possibility, no matter how uncertain, that you may become increasingly ill then we must assume we do not have much time. Tell us how we might assist you with the translation. Whatever it is that you may need."

Thankfully, Sam sat quietly, her lips pressed together in a narrow line, as Daniel rubbed his forehead and answered Teal'c. He really didn't think he could have curbed his mouth if she chose to challenge his decision. "Uhm... it's not a translation, Teal'c. I mean, I don't actually have to translate anything. I need to figure out the morphology of these symbols in comparison to the altered ones on the DHD, uhm... and, and... oh, determine how they relate to the astrological pictographs that are _supposed_ to be on the DHD. I don't actually think you can give me anything I need. At this point it's too soon for you to be able to... to...

"...okay, yeah, wait. There is something I need. Sam? Coffee? Lots of black coffee."

She shook her head at him and with what looked to be a mixture of resignation and possibly anger, turned away toward the fire. "Okay, fine... but Teal'c, if he falls flat on his face it'll be on your head."

Daniel ignored her typically optimistic approach and worked at thinking past the powerful headache and the new fear their conversation had generated. "Okay, so, I can't quite remember, but there's something about these symbols that seems familiar. I'm hoping it'll come back to me as I go along. Ah, God, this headache. So far, from looking at individual symbols I don't think they're likely to be pictographic. If they were pictographs, especially if in an early form, then there should be some of them that at least in some general way, resemble the concrete objects they represent."

Sam turned back toward Daniel. "But do pictographs have to be recognizable as anything? You've said many times that the DHD symbols are pictographs. Personally, Daniel, I've just never really been able to understand it that way. They're just general shapes, mapping out angular relationships between stars. I mean, I know we have names for them and some stories attached to some of them, but face it, other than their resemblance to astrological symbols from Earth, most of them don't really look like anything at all."

"Well, yes, actually, they do. Just not necessarily from our perspective. The symbols are abstract pictographic representations of star formations... you already know that, Sam. In fact that's what you just said yourself, right now, without even realizing it. Representations of angular relationships between the stars. Particular stars were chosen and visual relationships established beween them... they were linked together with imaginary lines that turned into pictures. We have names for all of the resulting shapes, and for some of them that we routinely recognize in Earth's night sky the names and shapes of the pictographs do seem to relate to objects, like Triangulum being the shape of a triangle, or Libra, looking like scales. On Abydos I found combinations of a few of the DHD pictographs in the night sky, in their constellations, and the Abydonians have long-established conceptualizations of what those visual relationships amongst their stars represent. Just like on Earth. So, extrapolate that to all of them."

"I don't know, Daniel. Even if that's so, I don't see how it's at all helpful here. Like I said, most of the DHD glyphs aren't really recognizable as much of anything in particular except for the names we associate with them. And we're on an alien world here, with a completely different night sky and completely altered glyphs."

Daniel paused to once again rub at his forehead. The headache was getting worse. "Remember, the Stargate was created by an alien race. We aren't familiar with exactly how they might have perceptually interpreted star formations, or on what basis they originally chose particular stars in relation to whatever other stars for the representations, so if the shapes seem nonsensical to us, that's the reason. It really doesn't matter, though. We have names for them all, and our interpretations of the shapes have been passed down through the ages. That's courtesy of the Ancients, and that means we can use those interpretations here." All right, Sam... end of debate, okay? Daniel was sure he was going to throw up any minute.

"But Daniel... Okay. All right, maybe all the Stargate symbols are pictographs representing star formations, and even though we can't recognize what they objectify we have names for all of them. But if you say the interpretations of the shapes, not just the names, are constant according to one race's perceptions, then you're claiming the builders of the Stargate had something to do with the way people on Ancient Earth originally located and interpreted the star constellations."

Daniel sighed, his impatience with her growing by leaps and bounds. "Christ, Sam. Isn't that obvious? Didn't I just say that? It stands to reason, doesn't it? We've got our little Earthman symbol we've named Gemini carved out in dirt and rock, my God, literally centuries ago, and more recently it's next to the Saturday night funnies in the newspaper... and then it shows up on an ancient alien mechanism that's a gateway to the stars. So it never was ours, originally, to begin with."

Feeling both frustration and exhaustion taking over, Daniel gave Carter a withering look. "God, I never thought you would be this obtuse. All of the DHD symbols represent angular relationships between stars - the constellations, you said so yourself - and over the ages people have associated the star formations with ideas of what tangible objects they look like. They're _pictographs_ , Sam. And pictographs are supposed to be pictures of things. The only reason these pictures might make any sense to us here on Earth is that's what we've been indoctrinated into seeing. The builders of the Stargate influenced our _very perceptions_ of the stars, and because the same glyphs are used throughout the galaxy it's a pretty safe assumption that the same influence occurred elsewhere, as well as on Earth. And later, especially with civilizations established through Goa'uld migration of established cultures from Earth, the interpretations of the glyph pictographs would have been ported across the galaxy right along with the people."

Enough digression. Daniel dragged one hand through his hair and returned to the subject at hand. "This writing, though..." He waved at the surrounding wall. "It's hard to figure out where to start. I don't see anything here that even remotely could be representative of any of the natural or man-made objects I've seen on this planet. Mind you, that's not all that significant because the only things left here now are basically trees and rocks. It's more than that... the forms seem too elaborately abstract, too complex to be pictographs in the sense that I'm used to. But there's too many of them for this to be an alphabetic language."

The headache was fierce. "I don't know. They must be either syllabic or ideographic. Oh hell... I don't know just what all this is. Right now I'm not sure I care. I'm gonna puke." Leaning back to rest his head against the wall Daniel fought to control his stomach, and slowly closed his eyes. As he did so, he was certain he saw barely restrained fear on Sam's face as she bent over the fire to make the coffee.

 

* * *

 

"So he crashed on us, did he?" Settling down next to Carter, Jack waved at hand at the nearby still figure, laying huddled in a sleeping bag.  
  
Carter poked at the fire. "We'll need some more wood if we want to keep this fire going much longer."  
  
"Captain?"  
  
"Four and a half hours, Sir. He lasted all of four and a half hours."  
  
It was his turn to poke at the fire now while he considered her concerns. Carter wasn't the only one worried about Daniel, but Jack was trying hard to keep his pessimism under control. "Well, that's not entirely accurate... he did make it all the way up here today." He looked sideways at Carter just in time to see the flash of sorrow in her eyes.  
  
"Yes, Sir." She stood and brushed the dirt off her rear. "I'll just go and gather some wood, now that you're here to keep an eye on Daniel."  
  
Jack let her go. "Take Rykert with you." He just wasn't in the mood right now for Carter's particular brand of realism - her propensity for realistic appraisal and pointing out the downside of any plan was omnipresent - and luckily for him, it seemed that nor was she. It wasn't necessary to discuss anything; they both had the same doubts about their chances of ever getting off this world any time soon. Even with a healthy Daniel and the full resources of the SGC, O'Neill knew deciphering the complex changes in the DHD glyphs was not likely to be a slap and tickle affair. Now, with no way to contact Hammond and with Daniel barely able to concentrate long enough to figure out which way to pull the zip on his fly...  
  
Jack couldn't help but notice the rising level of tension amongst his team members. Carter and Teal'c disagreed on what Daniel should or shouldn't be doing and when he should or shouldn't do it, and Daniel... well, O'Neill figured if he ever ran across anything in the Colorado woods that growled like that, he'd probably just shoot at it and run like hell. While Daniel couldn't be blamed for his uncharacteristic behavior, it was just that - Daniel's condition - which was the root of everyone else's temper.  
  
It wasn't hard to figure out why, either. Only ten days ago Carter and Teal'c had been shocked to see the evidence of Daniel's suffering on Klorel's ship - the bloodied jacket with almost the entire left chest blown away. Each in their own way, they were trying to help him now; Carter by trying in vain to look out for his immediate comfort and safety, and Teal'c by concentrating on whatever had to be done to get Daniel back to Earth as soon as possible.  
  
"Jack..." He looked up from the fire to see Daniel peering out from under the top edge of the sleeping bag. "Christ." Daniel started squirming around, working his hands out and fumbling at the zipper. "She's got me zipped up outta sight in here like I was a pair of Fruit of the Looms..." He tugged at the zipper to no avail. "Help me with this, will you. I gotta get out of here."  
  
There's our boy. Relief at Daniel's ability to joke about his predicament, however irascibly, provoked a wide smile as O'Neill rose and made his way over to answer the challenge. The zipper was well and truly stuck, though, and he ended up yanking at the bottom of the sleeping bag as Daniel laboriously twisted and crawled his way out the top.  
  
"You should still be resting, Daniel. You'll get us both in big trouble here."  
  
"Yeah? Where is she, anyway? Maybe we oughta take off out of here while the getting is good."  
  
Jack shook his head, smiling. Not nice, not nice at all... Danny, Danny, Danny. He let his eyes travel over the kid, noting the general tension, shaky hands, and red-rimmed eyes. "What? You need something for pain, Daniel?"  
  
"No, it's okay. Look, Jack, I think I might know what it is with these symbols." Daniel's voice trembled as noticeably as did his hands. "I need some help though... I need you to come over here." Daniel was scrambling awkwardly on all fours toward the far wall. Jack wasn't sure if that was because he didn't have the strength to get up onto his feet, or if whatever was of most interest was down there at knee level. It really didn't matter; either way, himself, he preferred to walk it.  
  
"I was just laying there, and it sorta came to me. Remember PX... uhh, P3... whatever, 989? Altair, Harlan? Our clones?"  
  
Jack winced at the memory as he joined Daniel at the wall. The young man was sitting down tracing some carvings low on the wall with one finger. "Yeah. What does that have to do with this stuff?"  
  
"Okay, well, you remember the other Daniel and Sam gave us some stuff to research when we left? Some of it was in Harlan's writing, and Daniel, I mean, _I_... um, sort of..." It looked to Jack as though Daniel was completely stymied as to how to express just who it was he was talking about.  
  
"Ah, anyway, he, I...gave me the translation and it turned out their written language was basically ideographic. The individual shapes looked fairly simplistic, but actually the conceptualizations were pretty complex. It was interesting stuff, but I knew we couldn't ever go back there so I put it away. Now, because it evolved from an abstract pictographic system of writing and many of those symbols were retained..." Daniel was getting into it nicely, picking up speed so that Jack couldn't find an opening, "...and incorporated into words, they could be taken as either representations of individual objects or as concept-representative ideograms depending on the context of the..."  
  
Jack rolled his eyes and nodded, making a windmilling motion with his hand to hurry Daniel along past the frighteningly gory scientific-linguistic bits. The remainder of the sentence was abruptly bit off and Daniel's cheeks flushed as a flash of irritation passed across his face. Jack immediately regretted the flippancy. "Oh... sorry. Really, go on."  
  
The look on Daniel's face said he didn't think the older man was at all sorry. His voice was tight as he continued. "Okay. Fine. See this symbol... the one here, that includes this cross-hatch here and the diagonal line to the left?" Daniel waved a hand at the wall. Jack had no idea what Daniel thought he had just so explicitly pointed out. "Okay, so if we isolate that combination of markings from the rest of the symbol, that exact combination is the ideogram representing the concept of applying previous knowledge to resolve an unknown, on Harlan's world..."  
  
Hoo Boy. The baffling string of words, rattled off at top speed by an obviously annoyed Daniel, barely made it past Jack's outer auditory canal never mind into his brain. "An integral part of a concept about applying... Daniel, what are you talking about?" Jack almost winced as Daniel's disapproving stare bored into him. Oh, crap. Speaking of applications, he'd sure like to apply for a change of duty right about now.  
  
"Oh for Christ sake." Daniel raised his voice and flapped his arms. "Problem solving, Jack. Something I should have realized you know nothing about. Look..."  
  
Jack tightened his chest muscles against his own rising irritation at the uncharacteristically hurtful insult from Daniel, as the young man impatiently drew a pattern of long and short overlapping lines in the dirt. "This is the written representation of the word for problem-solving in Harlan's native language... and if you look here at the wall, there it is, right there." Daniel impatiently jabbed his finger in the general direction of the complex mass of carvings on the wall. "Now, are you going to help me here or not?"  
  
O'Neill stared longingly at the drawings on the wall for what seemed like forever, praying for some sort of comprehension to miraculously rise up and hit him between the eyes before a concussion-crazed Daniel upped and did it. Then he saw it. On the right hand side, in a compact little grouping... cross-hatching, and just to the left of that, a diagonal line. "There!" He pointed to it, vaguely surprised at just how pleased he felt at his discovery, and for no good reason he was aware of, he leaned closer to it to have a good look.  
  
Then it hit him. God... they already knew all of the altered glyphs on the DHD were on the wall here, and if there were symbols from Harlan's world on this wall, and if Daniel knew what they _meant_ \- Jack turned to the symbol Daniel had drawn in the dirt, pointing to it with an excited appreciation he had never thought he'd feel for Daniel's chosen field. His look of self-satisfaction vanished as Jack turned to Daniel and found the young man slumped against the wall, pale and sweaty, his eyes closed and one hand clamped firmly over his mouth. Just as that sight had barely registered in Jack's consciousness, Daniel promptly leaned forward and threw up what used to be four cups of black coffee right on top of the focus of Jack's proud revelation.

 

* * *

  
  
Teal'c rummaged through the small stockpile of what was left of their supplies, searching in vain for what he knew he would not find. The only person's pack which might have proved useful simply wasn't here; ninety-seven hours ago, Daniel Jackson had come through the Stargate without so much as a daypack.  
  
The last of the MRE's had been divvied up the previous day, but Teal'c and Rykert had found the treed areas in the valley below to be a haven for small animals. The meat for this day's evening meal was at this very moment being closely examined by Captain Carter for any visible signs of parasitic or otherwise potentially harmful contamination. Their canteens were full; the creek below provided an abundant source of fresh clean water  
  
But food and water were not the issue here. There was no more coffee left, and no medication in the medkits which would be of any use at all. And without Daniel's pack there wasn't the steady supply of caffeine-rich dark chocolate which accompanied SG-1 on most of their missions. Teal'c looked over his shoulder in the general direction of where he had last seen his young friend and Colonel O'Neill bent over Daniel's sketches of Altairian symbols, comparing them to the drawings of the altered DHD and the actual wall carvings. Both men had moved out of Teal'c's line of sight, relocating further around the bend in the inner wall which separated the dwellings from the central clearing where they had stowed their gear and laid out their camp three days earlier.  
  
"You won't find anything useful there, Teal'c." He looked up in surprise to find Captain Carter standing at his side. He had been so intent on his own thoughts that he had not heard her approach. Teal'c mentally berated himself for his carelessness. At Carter's chuckle, he raised his eyebrow.  
  
"Did I sneak up on you? You're losing your edge, Teal'c." She knelt next to him, placing her hand on top of his own, stilling him from his search through the packs. "Teal'c... we need to talk about this. I don't agree with what you're doing. I know you've let up a bit, but I still think you're pushing him too hard."  
  
This was not an unexpected topic of discussion. Teal'c was well aware of Captain Carter's opinion, and in truth, over the last several hours he had begun to recognize the issue was not nearly so clear-cut as he had first believed. The 'sooner-we-get-back-the-sooner-he-gets-medical-attention' argument seemed to be, as O'Neill might say, wearing a bit thin, even to Teal'c. As it became apparent that Daniel Jackson's condition, while seeming to be in slow decline, had not as yet radically deteriorated, Teal'c had been forced to direct his attention toward Carter's list of long term residual effects of concussion that she maintained Daniel might conceivably end up with as a result of the lack of recovery time.  
  
Teal'c was sorely tempted to defend himself, to retort that there was no choice in the matter in any case. He could point out the obvious... Daniel Jackson was well aware he was their primary hope for finding a way back to Earth, and the young man was pushing himself harder than Teal'c ever had or would. But he didn't defend himself. Teal'c knew he had facilitated the overwork through his repeated offers to help and his willingness to ply Daniel with coffee and stir him back to wakefulness when he drifted off in the middle of his work.  
  
"I understand your concern, Captain Carter. I was uncertain if Daniel Jackson's condition would deteriorate rapidly. That is why I felt it was important to hasten the work. Now, however..."  
  
Carter settled down beside him with a sigh. "Yeah, I know. It's okay. I've been worried it's more than just a concussion, too. But whatever it is - a brain contusion, maybe, I don't know - he doesn't seem to be getting much worse neurologically." A derisive laugh escaped her. "Not that I'd be able to recognize it until it's too late, if he did get worse, or that we'd be able to do anything about it even if I did."  
  
"How does such a brain contusion differ from what you call concussion? Is this a condition from which Daniel Jackson can recover?" Teal'c wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know, but if there was information he was missing which might help him to better understand their situation, how could he decide what actions were best to take?  
  
"It's kind of one step up, or down I guess, from a concussion. It's when the brain smacks the skull hard enough to actually cause bruising, and I think there's a likelihood of swelling as well. It's not a good thing because it means there's actual damage done, but I don't really know a whole lot about it, Teal'c." She placed a hand on his arm. Her touch only marginally reassured him. "Please don't dwell on that. I can't be sure if that's what happened to Daniel; I'm only guessing. I just know his symptoms seem to be pretty severe for a concussion and I'm concerned about how long they've lasted." A wry smile passed quickly across her lips. "He's not exactly the man he used to be."  
  
Teal'c nodded. Daniel Jackson was quite ill, but Teal'c understood that what Captain Carter referred to was not simply his continued pain, increasing weakness, and intermittent vomiting. The physical illness was accompanied by a change in character which Teal'c found quite disturbing. The normally tolerant and pleasant young man was now more often than not irritable and miserable. He was openly impatient and dismissive of the attempts of others to help him, yet it was clear to everyone, except Daniel Jackson himself, that he was not capable of managing on his own.  
  
"What worries me the most is he still can't seem to keep much of anything down. He's already getting dehydrated, Teal'c." Carter pulled her hands through her hair, looking dejectedly at the ground. "As long as this nausea keeps up, he'll continue getting weaker and everything will be just that much harder. Daniel needed a solid week of rest, and instead he's been dragged up a mountain to spend three days trying to, to do..."  
  
Teal'c could see the words forming on her lips - _the impossible_ \- but to her credit she didn't say them, instead evidently choosing to perform the activity he had often heard O'Neill refer to as 'taking the high road', "...whatever it takes to get us out of here. He needs rest, Teal'c, not more stimulants. Not that there's any coffee left anyway."  
  
"Indeed, this is difficult." Acceding to her gentle pat on his arm, Teal'c withdrew his hands from the pack and dipped his head in Carter's direction. "It seems it will take considerable concentration on Daniel Jackson's part to solve the problem, and much time. I no longer know what is best to do."  
  
"I don't know either, Teal'c. I guess we just have to make sure he gets some rest and try to rehydrate him. He's not going to be able to concentrate on anything if we let him get much sicker than he already is." A full canteen was thrust into Teal'c's hands. "Go on. Tell them Rykert and I will have dinner ready in about an hour."

 

* * *

  
  
Daniel impatiently shoved away the canteen Teal'c thrust at him. No... not _now_ , not right _now_. He was close - far too close to tolerate such a distraction. He scuffed his boots on the ground where he sat, the urge to jump up and pace almost overwhelming. But he simply didn't have the physical energy for that.  
  
Ideograms... they were definitely comprised of ideograms; that had been clear to him over two days ago, from the moment he had recalled the writing his clone had given him. And not only were these inscriptions ideographic, every one of the Altairian symbols he'd managed to dredge up from the inner recesses of his mind were incorporated into this alien language. From that, Daniel knew there had to be a direct cultural relationship between the ancient, long gone people of this world and those of Harlan's world. A relationship which probably far surpassed parallel evolution of their written languages due to incidental contact.  
  
Jack had dismissed any discussion of that theory with a curt comment that, as interesting a question it was as to who came _from_ where and went _to_ where, it wasn't very relevant to the here and now. Daniel was certain Jack was so _very_ wrong... and he was so tantalizingly, tenuously perched right on the brink of making a huge leap across the chasm of incomprehension that so tormented him, it was sheer torture to be just not-quite-able to get his mental feet off the ground.  
  
The annoying canteen was withdrawn, but unfortunately it was replaced with a firm hand on his arm and a voice in his ear. "You must drink, Daniel Jackson. I will not allow you to resume your work until you do so." Daniel looked up at Teal'c and with great difficulty bit back the ill-tempered retort which was on his lips. Irritated beyond measure, he yanked the canteen out of Teal'c's hand, took large gulp of water, and with a convulsive movement threw the container to the ground. Water splashed out of open neck, dampening both the dirt and his pantleg. He kicked out at the vile object, and turned back to the wall.  
  
Was this language strictly ideographic, like Harlan's? Or had it evolved? Most of the shapes seemed morphologically more complex than the Altarian writing; maybe it was syllabic and what he was looking at was words made up of individual syllabic symbols? Daniel could feel his excitement building - his stomach spasmed, this time not as a result of nausea but of expectancy. Yes, yes! Now Daniel did jump to his feet... he couldn't do any less than that or he'd explode; he'd spontaneously ignite into a fireball of epic proportions. If the Altarian language was ideographic and this one _was_ actually syllabic... God! The evolution of this language could indicate that Harlan's people were the ones who came _here_ , and if that was so...  
  
That distinction was important. It could make all the difference to interpreting the glyphs.  
  
As his chest seized up with intense anticipation, Daniel thumped his fist against the wall in what was intended as a gesture of triumph. With his weakness, it came off more like an ineffectual swipe borne of frustration. Sure enough, a hand closed on his shoulder and Jack applied gentle pressure, pulling Daniel away from the wall. "Daniel, come on. You can't do this right now; you're too tired and it's too hard. Carter's cooking up a feast..."  
  
Daniel felt his whole body spasm in anger at the inopportune interruption. He jerked away, coming to rest with his back up against the wall, growling in frustration. "No! You don't understand. Don't tell me what I can and can't do! Just let -me - _be_." Jack's hand reached out for him again, and this time the grip was firmer, more insistent. It was unbearable. Daniel slapped at Jack's arm, and his mouth took off at top speed. "You're such a shit, Jack, you know that? You didn't want me here because you don't think I can handle it, but then you haul me up here and encourage me... and now that I'm so close..." Daniel's voice rose in both volume and pitch, to match his growing agitation. " _Jack!_ I'm _so close_..."  
  
Daniel flung his arms wide and came perilously near to losing his balance as a wave of dizziness passed over him. "You never listen to me, Jack. The Earth would be a smouldering ball of death right now if it were up to you. Listen to me _now_ , Jack." As Daniel stared intensely at Jack, he saw the look on the other man's face quickly transform from amazement to barely concealed anger, but Daniel didn't care. He twisted away and to his satisfaction the hand was removed. Daniel was fully aware of the probable topic of conversation which quietly started up between Jack and Teal'c as they moved away from him. Give them about five minutes, he figured, and they'd both be coming over to gang up on him, to haul him off to Sam to be mothered to death.  
  
To be mothered... no, _smothered_... with misguided condescension. Treated like he wasn't a grown man at all, but more like some helpless child, like an infant belonging in a cradle. Like a baby... a _baby_...  
  
Oh God! _God!_ Dropping to the ground like a stone, Daniel scrabbled around for his pencil and paper, studying the wall for the symbols he hoped would be there somewhere, for the symbols he desperately needed to jog his scattered memory. Baby... cradle... _baby_... infant... kids... A vivid image of the star formation of Auriga and its nearby companion Capella filled Daniel's vision. From an Earther's perspective, Capella, the Goat - A raw laugh erupted from his throat; the goat, kids; words, words related to words leading to understanding, and more importantly leading to Auriga, the Charioteer. The chariot, a vessel. What about from an alien perspective? Specifically, from an Altairian point of view? Cognitively, Daniel twisted Auriga on its axis, visualizing it from as many perspectives as his disorganized mind would allow.  
  
He couldn't see them here. Almost frantic now, Daniel rapidly scanned the carvings on the wall. If only he could remember the symbols... he knew he'd seen it, read it; the Altairian documents had included the ideograms for it, he _knew_ it, but he couldn't quite remember... couldn't quite _see_ them. He scrambled over to his left, ignoring the scrape of sharp stone across his knees, completely uncaring that he'd inadvertently trampled and scattered most of the papers - the drawings they had so carefully made up to this point - which had lain at his side; totally disregarding Jack and Teal'c as they hurriedly moved to rescue what they could of the valuable research before Daniel could destroy any more of it in his distraction.  
  
And then he saw it. To hold close. His memory snapped back with a jolt at the sight of the symbol, and with absolute clarity he visualized the second one he had been struggling to find. Two diagonal lines, crossed in their lower quarter by a third curved line - the ideogram for _safety_. Once he knew what he was looking for, it was absurdly easy to find. Daniel's eyes stung with the precursor of tears as not five inches to the left of the first symbol, he came across the second one. He visualized the proper DHD glyph for Auriga, saw the relationship and possible marriage of the lines in his mind. Hoping against hope, struggling to push an immense fear of failure aside, he turned to retrieve the DHD drawings.  
  
But they weren't there. _God, no..._ Daniel twisted violently, trying to locate the pile of papers he'd been sure were on the ground at his side. He dropped onto all fours. The inevitable tears began to flow, and he heard himself making unintelligible noises of desperation as he crawled to his right to look for them. And then they were there... shoved right underneath his nose. Daniel was only vaguely aware of Jack speaking to him, he didn't understand the words nor care about the hand that held the drawings, nor did he attend to the appearance of small wet spots as his tears dropped onto the piece of paper.  
  
All he cared about, all he really saw, right on the top page, was the hand drawn representation of the altered DHD glyphs containing the exact combination of the Altairian ideograms 'hold close' and 'safety' - _shelter_ \- on the top left panel of the inner ring on the DHD.  
  
All he saw... was that they were going _home_. It was _Auriga_. And where there was the basis to decipher Auriga, there was means to decipher the others. Overwhelmed with immense relief, Daniel immediately fell victim to an uncontrollable catharsis. He dropped onto his side on the ground, unconsciously curling himself up into a tight little ball, laughing, shivering, and crying all at once.  
  
Within moments, he was asleep.

 

* * *

  
  
"Geez... Daniel..." Alarmed by Daniel's agitation, Jack kept hold of the sheaf of papers with one hand and reached out toward Daniel's shoulder with the other. Even before his hand could cover the short distance and make contact, Daniel rapidly shuffled back against the wall and slid to the ground, curling up as he went. Shaking arms wrapped themselves firmly around legs which drew most of the way up to Daniel's chest, and the young man's body shivered noticeably. Jack watched, stupefied, as the inexplicable tears were joined by overt laughter... only for the laughter to almost immediately become virtually indistinguishable from open sobbing.  
  
Teal'c joined Jack at Daniel's side. The Jaffa loudly called Daniel by name and reached out to grasp hold of their friend, clearly driven by the same concern Jack himself felt. Even as alarmingly irrational as Daniel's behavior seemed, Jack recognized the emotional release as a product of total exhaustion and almost unbearable stress, and knew better than to interrupt it. "No, Teal'c. Leave him."  
  
"O'Neill, we should tend to him... this behavior if highly abnormal. He is unwell." The concern evident on Teal'c's face touched Jack; the big Jaffa did not easily replace his normally detached facade with such an open display of emotion. Together, the two men looked down at their friend, at the tightly closed eyes, the bruised face twisted in distress. Teal'c modified his movement, reaching out to bring his fingers to within a hairsbreadth of Daniel's cheek.  
  
Jack changed the direction of travel of his own hand, placing it on Teal'c's arm rather than on Daniel's shoulder. "No. Teal'c, it's all right. He needs this; I have _no clue_ just what exactly brought it on right now, but I know it's important. He's just... overwrought..."  
  
"Daniel Jackson is an intelligent and passionate man. He is also usually very resilient."  
  
Jack didn't understand why Teal'c felt it necessary to point out the most obvious of Daniel's qualities right now. He wondered if perhaps the terse statement was meant more as a negative commentary on the situation than an optimistic view of Daniel's recuperative abilities. Puzzled, he took the easy way out and nodded, hoping he looked more insightful and confident than he felt. Daniel appeared to be settling; the tremours had lessened and the all but hysterical mixture of laughing and sobbing was performed more or less silently. Placing the papers on the ground, Jack covered his eyes with one hand and settled back onto his haunches. He knew Daniel was exhausted, yes, and sick... but _this_...  
  
Jack and Teal'c had watched as Daniel had become increasingly more active in his search for the answers which the young man clearly thought were looming. Jack had witnessed before, in the past, the outward signs and results of whatever mysterious process of revelation Daniel's brilliant mind underwent when he was immersed in solving a problem. He knew he would never even come close to understanding just how that worked. All he'd been able to do so far was learn to recognize the signs that _it_ \- that _something_ \- was happening, and stand back well out of the way. So he and Teal'c had sat quietly, watching, on guard for any sign that Daniel might need them. Maybe this time, though, that had been a mistake.  
  
"O'Neill. Daniel Jackson is sleeping."  
  
Jack removed his hand and took a look. Daniel was fast asleep, laying in roughly the same position as before with his knees drawn up to his chest, but his arms had fallen from around his body and his face had relaxed, slackening into an almost vacant expression. Jack looked from Daniel to the DHD drawings and wished he knew for certain just what Daniel had experienced which had driven him past the point of being able to cope, to the point of emotional and physical collapse. He figured, though, whatever it was had to be some pretty bad news.  
  
When Daniel had started scrambling around looking for the drawings Jack and Teal'c had rescued, Jack had felt a bright flare of hope and had actually looked forward to the expected non-stop chatter of discovery. But no sooner had he put the drawings under Daniel's nose, trying to encourage his friend to _slow down_ , to take it easy, had Daniel clamped his eyes tightly shut, curled himself up, and lost it completely. There was only one conclusion Jack could draw from that.  
  
Jack became aware that Teal'c was looking at him. "What?"  
  
"I expect we should make ourselves comfortable on this planet." Teal'c's usual impassive mask was back in place.  
  
"Yeah. I guess." Confirmation; Teal'c was thinking just what he'd been thinking. Jack rose to his feet and looked down with regret at his sleeping friend. "Damn. We should go back to the Stargate. Move our camp there. Maybe Hammond will eventually send another MALP through... it looks like that's our best hope now."  
  
"Oh God." At the shaky voice, Jack looked up to see Carter and Rykert standing at the bend in the wall. Carter's eyes were huge and shiny. Rykert shuffled his feet and stared steadfastly at the ground. As Teal'c rose from his crouch beside Daniel to stand at Jack's side, Carter brought her hand up to her face and stifled something that sounded like it might have been the beginnings of a sob. Jack looked at her with raised eyebrows, feeling both confused and mildly irritated. What was her problem? Didn't they have enough to deal with as it was?  
  
"Problem, Carter?" His tone was harsher than he'd intended.  
  
Her eyes widened further and she practically stuffed her whole fist into her mouth. Rykert's head jerked up as though he'd just stuck his finger in a light socket.  
  
Teal'c caught on before Jack could even begin to try to make sense of their behavior. "It is all right, Captain Carter. Daniel Jackson is merely asleep."  
  
Ohhh. Jack felt mildly foolish. He supposed that given his last statement about the MALP being their best hope and what with Daniel laying there in a motionless heap at their feet, her reaction shouldn't have confused him.  
  
"Rykert, go fetch a blanket for him, will 'ya. And hurry it up." There. That was better. Things were back on track now.

 

* * *

  
  
Sam watched Daniel and bit her lip, unsure of just where they stood, and of whether to be glad or sad the Colonel's interpretation of Daniel's behavior had been wrong. Or... had it?  
  
So far, all Sam saw was rudimentary headway, one possible glyph. And even that seemed a stretch. When Daniel had awoken he'd sworn up and down he knew with all his being he'd identified Auriga, but Sam hadn't been able to follow his erratic and impatient ramblings about shelters and babies. Then, as the dim light of dusk faded and true darkness fell, Daniel had taken roost right next to the fire. In an effort to control him by default, O'Neill had forbidden him to use any of the flashlights, citing the unrenewable nature of batteries. They had all tried to convince Daniel the day was done, that enough of the job was done so the rest could wait until the next morning... and that Daniel himself was all done in. He had steadfastly ignored them, gathering up all the papers and his pencil and settling as close to the light of the fire as he could without singing his eyebrows.  
  
And he hadn't eaten anything. Sam knew she couldn't do anything about Daniel's insistence on working, but maybe she could do something about the other part. She gathered up the meat and root vegetables they had put aside for him while he slept and carefully placed them on a nearby rock. Moving over to the stack of supplies, she rummaged around noisily - there was no way she was going to approach Daniel unannounced, not while he was caught up so intently in whatever it was he was doing. A frontal attack with the plate of food would never work - he'd go for her head instead of the meal, for certain - so she'd need to employ a different strategy. Her concerted effort to be as subtly distracting as possible were rewarded by the Colonel looking up from where he lay a few feet back of the fire, and grumpily telling her in no uncertain terms to knock it off or he'd have her replace Teal'c and Rykert on the outside watch... all by herself. She was delighted.  
  
Daniel raised his head and looked toward her. Seizing the moment, Sam moved over to him. "Daniel... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to distract you." Like hell.  
  
"Are you going to stop now that you have?"  
  
Sam winced. "I said I was sorry." Maybe a diversion hadn't been such a hot idea after all.  
  
"Never mind." He dropped his head again, peering intently at his notes in the undulating light.  
  
Sam leaned forward to look over his shoulder. Given the erratic firelight and the dark shadows which fell across the page, it was all but impossible to read what was written there. Whatever work Daniel was doing, it was pretty obvious the crux of it had to be concentrated elsewhere.  
  
Daniel twitched his head slightly and sighed. "Sam." He turned and looked directly into her eyes. "You're hovering. If you have something to say, just say it."  
  
Okay, an invitation. She could work with that. "Well, then, okay. I'd like you to put that stuff aside. Just for a little bit." Sam was aware of O'Neill quietly raising himself into a sitting position behind them as she softly coaxed, "Pretty much the only thing you've had all day is water. You should eat something solid, Daniel."  
  
Not taking his gaze off her face, his movements slow and precise, Daniel shuffled the papers into a neat pile in his lap and placed his pencil on the ground next to him. His words were equally as precise, spoken in a carefully controlled, measured tone of voice. "You know, it's really annoying when you do that. I can decide for myself if I'm hungry or not." He turned his head slightly further to the right while still keeping his eyes fixed on her face. "You can lay back down, Jack. This is a private conversation." The head swiveled back again. "I'm fine, Sam. I promise I'll eat like a horse when we get home. But right now I need to do this, so we can _go_ home."  
  
Light from the fire flickered irregularly across Daniel's face, deepening the contrast between the bruising and the pale skin, intensifying the dark shadows beneath his eyes and in the hollows of his cheeks. Sam studied his face, and received a faintly belligerent look in return. Her heart told her this was not the real Daniel she was looking at; this was a shell, a mask... but covering up, what? What was with him?  
  
Sam was no physician, but she doubted it was reasonable to attribute his continuing physical symptoms - the ongoing headache, the nausea and dizziness - and his erratic behavior and emotional lability to the after-effects of concussion. He'd been unconscious for such a very long time and he was still so sick. It had to be something worse. Fear for him rose within her but she pushed it away, deciding instead to concentrate on the certainties. He needed to take a break. He needed real food, more sleep. Whether he believed it or not, Sam knew he needed _her_. She was reluctant to start an argument, though, and Daniel's attitude left no doubt that to further encourage him to eat would result in just that. So, maybe doing something about the food and water part wasn't going to be possible right away. As to the sleep part... perhaps, if he wasn't allowed to fall back into that intense state of whatever-it-was which drove him mercilessly, perhaps if she could support him in some way other than feeding him, maybe he'd be able to relax a bit.  
  
"Okay. Okay, Daniel. You're not hungry. So, tell me about what you're doing here, then. Maybe I can help." Sam sidled over close to him, sat cross-legged beside him, her knee to coming to rest on top of the notes on his lap where they overlapped his thigh. Maybe a quiet chat, a chance for him to explain himself, to get some of what was consuming him out into the open - hopefully where she could control and direct the destructive energy he was devoting to it - would be a restful substitute for the sleep he refused to seek.  
  
He pulled his leg away from hers. "Well, I'm... I'm relating the Altairian ideograms I can remember to the DHD symbols. So we can go home." He looked at her as if she had just asked him if he was still breathing. "I told you that before. I explained it before."  
  
"Well, you said something about the Auriga glyph being comprised of two of the Altairian symbols that meant shelter..."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"...and something about Auriga being symbolized by a baby..."  
  
"No! That, that's not what I said... well, I did say babies, but I don't actually remember if I said it like that, but if I did, it wasn't what I meant... No, no, I wouldn't have said that because that's wrong. I said that Auriga on Earth was the symbol of the Charioteer, and it's adjacent to The Goat..."  
  
"Capella." Sam supplied. "And the lower star cluster that's her kids."  
  
"Yes! And the chariot could be considered to be a vessel." The look on Daniel's face was both triumphant and oddly child-like. Under any other circumstances, it would have been enchanting. "You see? It's Auriga."  
  
Sam heard a faint strangled noise come from the man behind them, and felt herself in full sympathy with the Colonel. She didn't have a clue what Daniel was talking about either. She worriedly wondered if she should add dementia to her list of concerns about him. She looked up to see him staring at her, his face darkening considerably.  
  
"You think I'm crazy."  
  
How perceptive - Sam struggled to force the worry from her expression. "No, of course not. I just don't fully understand why you think those ideograms are Auriga, Daniel. Maybe if you could slow down and explain it right from the beginning?" Yeah, maybe then she could decide how much of this was true progress and how much was the product of stress and illness. It was kind of important they figure that bit out.  
  
"But I just did. You just don't believe me."  
  
A voice from behind them rescued her. "Daniel, you know I can be really dense sometimes, okay..." Colonel O'Neill's tone was even and pleasant. "Explain it to me. Use tiny little words in tiny little sentences that go in tiny little steps right from the start to the end."  
  
Daniel swiveled around and peered into the cavern behind them. Sam knew he couldn't see the Colonel's face in the dim light, and it was clear he was having trouble deciding if the words were facetious or not. Seeming to give Jack the benefit of the doubt, albeit reluctantly, Daniel adjusted his position and looked into the fire as he spoke, his voice soft and the words coming out in that same slow measured cadence as earlier.  
  
"Fine. Tiny little words. On Earth, we have labels for the glyphs that are on the Stargate. Each glyph represents a star formation, and there's a story associated with each label for each glyph. The labels and stories are embellishments - in littler words, that's like elaborating on something, Jack - of what the builders of the Stargate somehow conveyed to our ancestors, about what the formations _look_ like. Like Serpent's Caput. We've been indoctrinated into visualizing... oh, sorry, let me dummy that down a bit... conditioned into seeing the placement of those stars as looking like the head of a serpent, with a forked tongue sticking out. Caput means head, in Latin."  
  
Jack grunted. Daniel shook his head slightly and continued. "I'll assume that means you're listening and not snoring. The foundations for how we visually interpret the stars had to have been laid, courtesy of the Stargate builders, through very early legend and mythology..." Daniel's voice softened and Sam heard the Colonel shifting closer to them in order to hear him, "...and if Earth historians think they know differently, well, they're wrong. The very existence and age of the symbols on the Stargate proves that."  
  
He paused, staring at the ground, and for a moment Sam was uncertain if he had anything else to say. A restless shift from behind them seemed to wake Daniel up to their presence, and he continued. "Auriga is sometimes called The Charioteer. When I realized that the written morphology of the symbols on the DHD and the walls here were visually identical to the written language from Altair, I started looking for conceptual similarities."  
  
Daniel glanced over at Sam where she sat beside him. As the firelight licked at his face, she was shocked to see tears on his cheeks. He quickly looked away and blurted out, "You aren't really interested in any of this. I found them, okay? The chariot could be considered a vessel, and because Auriga is also sometimes thought of as carrying the children of The Goat... kids, babies... then it's perfectly reasonable to embellish Auriga as being something akin to a cradle. Or, if you use it as a predicate, 'to cradle'. It's also perfectly reasonable to believe the original builders of the Stargates didn't just foster Earth's mythology, so a sensible next step would be to look for Altairian symbols which conceptualize that particular elaboration."  
  
Daniel paused. He brought his knees up and folded his arms across them, dropping his head onto his forearms. "And I found them."  
  
"Shelter."  
  
"Yes, Jack. In one tiny little word. Shelter."  
  
Sam thought she was beginning to catch on. She felt her heart speed up and a familiar thrill of impending discovery raced through her. "Wait a minute... you're saying that the combination of the two individual Altairian ideograms..."  
  
"Yes. The Altairian symbols for 'hold close', and the one meaning 'safety'. Together they read as 'shelter', or, 'to shelter'." Daniel's voice became muffled as he turned his face away from her, burying his head further into his arms. "I don't see why I have to justify myself to you."  
  
Sam suppressed a flash of irritation at his petulance. She was awfully tired of feeling like she had tiptoe around everything. "We're just trying to understand it, Daniel. You're not exactly in peak condition, and it's our lives at stake here too." The moment the ill-conceived words left her mouth, Sam wished she could have them back. Daniel's head snapped up and he stared at her in what she would have interpreted as anger, except for the tears that stained his cheeks.  
  
"RightFineWhatever-you-say." The words poured out at maximum velocity and intensity. Sam could almost feel them hit her as he launched the rest of it directly at her. "Chariot plus children is a visual representation of holding or cradling something valuable and in Altairian writing the symbols for 'hold close' plus 'safety' combine to mean shelter, and that exact combination is on the altered DHD and the Stargate ring... and it _just so happens Samantha_ that perfectly incorporated into that exact combination is our original glyph for Auriga. It's even located in the usual place on the inner ring."  
  
Daniel abruptly slid on his rear to several feet away, turned his back to her and waved one hand in her general direction. "I'm not crazy."  
  
Sam couldn't move. For a moment, she couldn't even breathe. Auriga. He'd actually deciphered Auriga. Oh, God. If that was so, if he'd done _that_ one...  
  
"We know you're not crazy, Daniel. Carter..." She heard scuffling as the Colonel changed his position. The noises grew louder and then he was there next to her. "So. What he said... what exactly did all that mean?"  
  
"He... he said he knew how to decipher the changes, Sir." God. She'd been so sure it was impossible. Oh, Daniel.  
  
"Well, okay, that's good. So... let's go home."  
  
The Colonel's obvious attempt at levity almost brought a smile to Sam's lips. Almost, but not quite. There was _something_ \- She looked at Daniel's back, at the tension there which was discernible even in the low, flickering light. Daniel's approach to the glyphs was predicated upon theory - that the gate builders originated and ported visual interpretations for the glyphs, regardless of the actual visible constellations from different areas of the galaxy. It was a workable theory; it would explain a lot about the Stargate. Press-here-to-go-there, no matter what alien night sky one was looking at. But they were about to pin all their hopes on its basic truth. Sam was a born scientist, not only trained but actually hard-wired to seek out the truths in theories and follow the paths of logic and reason. She knew he was likely right about Auriga - its incorporation into the new symbol and location on the DHD were unlikely to be mere coincidence - but could they automatically assume that meant the rest of them were possible? Had Daniel simply made that assumption, a huge leap without a tether in sight, or had he already worked it through?  
  
"In a minute, Sir. I just want to talk to Daniel for a minute before we leave."  
  
Her own attempt to lighten the mood was met with a chuckle from O'Neill, but if anything, Daniel's shoulder's tightened further. Sam suspected he knew pretty much what she was going to say. She stared into the fire, gathering her thoughts. Even as touchy as she knew Daniel was right then, this was something which had to be followed through to its logical conclusion. It was important she ask what she had to ask without allowing any hint of judgment to creep in. There was no room for irrational resentment in this discussion.  
  
"Daniel, you said before that we couldn't really know what an alien race's visual interpretations of the star formations might be. Now, you've done something incredible here, really incredible. But I have a question. You've used our Earth perspective to decipher Auriga, and I'm sure you're right about that one, but who's to say that applies to all of them? Even if the language is Altairian for all of them? I mean, I guess what I'm trying to say is that the meanings associated with other star formations could be so far from our frame of reference that we'd never..."  
  
O'Neill's sudden strong grip on her shoulder stopped her. "Not right now, Carter." He gave her shoulder a rough shove, and she looked up from the fire to see that Daniel had leaned far forward, dropping his chin to his chest and placing both his hands on the back of his head. He remained mostly turned away from her, limiting her view to his hunched back and his hands, which dug into and twisted his long hair. Coarse tremours ran across his back and shoulders, evincing unbearable tension. It was an alarming sight. Immediately, Sam knew what she had done. She knew that from Daniel's point of view, to someone in Daniel's state of mind, it probably seemed that she had just tried to negate everything he had done.  
  
She hadn't meant to do that. Had she? She was a scientist. _He_ was a scientist. She understood now what she would have translated earlier as anger, except for the inexplicable tears, was more likely bitter disappointment at not receiving the support he so desperately needed... from her. Stupid. Stupid, stupid. She had to fix this. She clambered on all fours closer to Daniel, intending to fix it.  
  
But the damage had been done, cracks turned into full fledged fissures unable to withstand the immense pressure from within. At the sound of Sam coming up beside him, the bomb that was Daniel went off. O'Neill jumped forward to intervene but he got there a second too late, as Daniel whirled around and violently pushed out at her. He caught her solidly on her upper chest and she was propelled back to land in a sprawled heap, narrowly missing the edge of the fire. Her own exclamation of surprise and pain was joined by one of dismay from the Colonel.  
  
"Daniel!" O'Neill grabbed the young man by the shoulder and pulled him away. Daniel fell back onto his rear and immediately scrambled to right himself, pushing O'Neill's hands away.  
  
"Leave me alone." Daniel moved backward, away from both of them.  
  
Oh, so stupid. She'd known how close to the edge he was. "Daniel, it's my fault. I'm sorry... I didn't mean anything..."  
  
"Right." Acid. If Sam could have touched the word, it would have burned her hand.  
  
Sam motioned for the Colonel to move away. Instead, though, he crouched down in front of Daniel. "Danny, she's just worried about you. And you know her; she's always trying to find the downside. I swear, if it weren't for Carter we'd all never know just how upside we really are."  
  
Encouraged that the Colonel was within striking range and still in one piece, Sam tried again. "We can talk about this, Daniel. We've always been able to talk to each other." She shifted forward slightly, leaning closer. "Sir? Maybe you could give us some privacy?"  
  
"Yeah, okay, maybe that's a good idea." O'Neill stood and moved off. "I'll just go play with Teal'c and Rykert out there." He started to step back toward Daniel, but evidently thought better of it. "I'm trusting you two to share nice, now."  
  
She knew just who he was talking to. She'd do her best not to provoke Daniel again, and maybe - just maybe - they could re-establish enough trust to work this out. Because chances were they'd never get off this planet if they couldn't work together at it. "Sure, Sir. Just don't fall off any cliffs in the dark."  
  
His voice came from farther away. "Ha, Carter. I come from a long line of cliffhangers. I'll be back soon. Be sure to keep the fire alive."  
  
Moments passed before Daniel's voice broke the uncomfortable silence. "I didn't hear you asking, but I don't particularly feel like talking to you."  
  
"I think we need to talk, Daniel. I feel like we're... like we're fighting against each other. So much has happened, not just here, but over the last few weeks. We worked our way through all that, and we need to be able to work together here, too."  
  
Daniel's voice was cold, his tone openly accusatory. "You don't want to work together."  
  
Sam found herself feeling more than just a little unnerved; this wasn't the Daniel she was used to talking with. She doubted Daniel would ever have said that, especially in that way, if he was really himself. Before she could even frame a reply, Daniel leaned forward, pinning her with his eyes.  
  
"You just want me to do what you say. What _you_ think I should do. Because you don't trust me to make my own decisions. You don't trust me to know how to go about this."  
  
Her nervousness increased, and not only because she was unaccustomed to hearing that tone from Daniel. When it came right down to it, he was right, but with one proviso... it wasn't a matter of trust; it was a matter of fitness.  
  
"No. That's not true. This has nothing to do with trust, Daniel. You are one of the most trustworthy people I've ever known."  
  
His answer was a surprise. An unpleasant one. There was a pause, a faint noise as he shifted, and then he responded, "Ah, but we aren't talking about me, Sam. It isn't about me, it's about you. We're talking about you." There were more noises as he unexpectedly moved closer, close enough so she could make out his face in the dim light from the nearby fire. She didn't like what she saw. "It's you who doesn't trust me, Sam. It's you who's the problem."  
  
Oh, cripes. Just what planet was he on? This was just... "But it is about you, Daniel. You're not well. You've been hurt, you're sick, and I _know_ the decisions you're making are hurting you even worse. God. Look at yourself. You haven't eaten more than a couple of bites of anything in over twenty-four hours, and before that you lost pretty much everything you did try to eat. You're weak and dehydrated, you've got headaches, you're still nauseated... and your mood is so erratic we don't feel like we can even come near you. You aren't even giving yourself a chance to..."  
  
Daniel interrupted her with an abrupt sweep of his arm through the air between them. "Right. Sure. You want to catalogue all the things you think are wrong with me? Fine. I don't remember it, but I hit my head. I puke up all the time and I can hardly stand up long enough to piss against the wall. I can't take care of myself. And I'm being too impulsive and emotional. Now what about the rest of it? What about that you think I have an overactive imagination? That I'm naïve? What about that you - that _all_ of you - think I'm so blind that I don't see you patronizing me all the time. There goes _Danny_ , spouting off more nonsense, running off again on some worthless quest."  
  
The verbal attack was vehement and unexpected. Sam couldn't fathom that Daniel could possibly believe what he was saying. She was so stunned it was even an effort to come up with a simple denial. "We don't think that. You can't really believe that."  
  
Daniel laughed; an unpleasant sound that turned into a choked cry even as it came out. He put one hand up to his forehead and pointed at her with the other. "There you go. Telling me what I should believe. God. This headache. What it boils down to, Sam, is that _it is_ a matter of trust. You've never had any real faith in me... that's one reason why you always feel like you have to take care of me, to smother me."  
  
Sam stared at him, deeply disturbed. To smother him? She couldn't believe he could truly feel that way about their relationship. She couldn't even begin to figure out how to respond to that. The conversation was over. She moved to leave but he scrambled forward and reached out, caught her by the arm. "Daniel... let go."  
  
"It was you wanted to talk, Sam."  
  
"This isn't talking, Daniel."  
  
"Why? Why? Why isn't it? Because, because you don't like what you're hearing? It's only talking if it goes the way you want? Just like my solution to the DHD is only right so long as _you_ understand how it's done? If it gets the Carter seal of approval? You don't trust me. You've never trusted me."  
  
"I didn't mean to imply that your solution..."  
  
"Yes. Yes, you did. Jack is right, Sam. You turn things around and tear them apart until you find where you think they don't work. That's you... that's what you do. And that's okay if the things belong to you or if you're invited." Daniel leaned forward even further and poked her in the shoulder. "But _this_ belongs to _me_. And I never invited you. I don't need you. Don't take out all your insecurities on me."  
  
The sharp tone of voice, the accusations of lack of faith, her own building sense of _hurt_... none of these provocations came even close to doing the damage done by those last words. Sam wasn't exactly certain what he meant, but this was different than what had come before. Up until this, Sam had accepted Daniel's angry words as primarily the product of disappointment in her, of his being ill, and of the tremendous pressure he had placed upon himself. She knew, at the same time, there had to be an element of truth in there... but more as a projection of his own doubts about himself than a true comment on her. But this - this was different, too hard.  
  
"All my insecurities?" She forcefully reminded herself this probably wasn't really Daniel but a head injury speaking and worked to keep the hurt and rising anger out of her voice, but knew she hadn't succeeded. Daniel just sat there, looking at her. "What insecurities would those be, Daniel?"  
  
Sam waited, but he didn't answer. He ducked his head for a moment, and with that familiar and quintessentially-modest Daniel-gesture her heart softened... but when he brought his head back up, his face was a mask of indifference. He shrugged. "Whatever."  
  
"Whatever? What do you mean, whatever? This just goes to show that I'm right, Daniel. You can't be yourself... you've got to be all screwed up, or else how could you be so hurtful. I've always had faith in you, tried to support you..."  
  
Daniel let out a derisive laugh. "Support me, Sam? Oh, yeah, that's just fine. Like you trusted and supported me so much that you stood there and watched Jack make me destroy the Hammer. You shouldn't need to test faith you already believe in, Captain Carter. And just how many days did it take for you guys to agree to try the address I got in the alternate reality? Even then, _you_ only agreed to try it because Jack did. And, like on Cartago? Like you supported me there? You want to know what insecurities? How about the Little Miss Negative one that makes you pull everything apart because you never learned to have faith? How about the one that makes you give me pitying glances as you scurry along behind whoever's giving the order of the day? That's you all over, isn't it? Follow the leader and be damned what's left behind."  
  
Oh, God. He'd hit a nerve, and she felt her whole body jerk in response. She couldn't listen to this, couldn't do this. He was so wrong, he _had_ to be _wrong_. "Daniel, that's not fair and you know it! This is the military..."  
  
"Oh, yeah, it sure is. G.I. Jane in action... the perfect little soldier. Well you know what? The hell with the military! The bottom line is you cared more about the possibility of being court-martialed than you did about believing in me!"  
  
"You self-centered son of a bitch! Daniel Jackson, world expert in tunnel vision... you couldn't see another point of view if it smacked you right between the eyes. Talk about insecure. You call me insecure? Look at you, listen to yourself! Poor me, nobody listens to me, nobody trusts me - How dare you put _your_ lack of faith in yourself on _me_! Whether you see it or not, I'm doing what I can for you. I've been there for you, Daniel..."  
  
"You've been there for me! How? By bringing me food when I don't want to eat? By patting me on the arm every time you walk by, like I'm some pet dog you want to train to follow you around? You've been there all right... trying to stop me from working, telling me in thousand different ways that you think I can't do it! Like you're there for me right now... like you believe in me right now, that I can do the glyphs and can get us _home_..."  
  
Her mind screamed at her. He was _wrong_ about her, this was crazy. "Okay, fine! So just maybe it's true, maybe I _don't_ believe that! Why should I? You're head-injured Daniel, you're sick - you're not mentally competent! I don't think - "  
  
Oh God. Sam bit off the rest of it, shocked she had actually said it aloud. To Daniel. She swallowed hard, and only upon recognizing her throat hurt did she realize they had been openly yelling at each other.  
  
Daniel abruptly turned away from her and scuttled into the shadows.

 

* * *

 

**  
Part Five**

The MALP tilted slightly to the right as it dipped into the shallow depression, but fortunately it didn't bog down too badly. With most of the rocks laboriously cleared from its path, Panter had hoped it would have been a quick trip across the uneven ground - it only needed to go about a hundred and fifty feet - but it hadn't turned out that way. The ungainly probe had hung up on even the most innocuous of things; even the skinny rotted branch he had missed picking up had tangled in the treads. It had taken over ten minutes just to get that straightened out. Damn MALPs were pieces of junk at the best of times.

It was almost there now. Panter twisted the control on the remote and the new probe shuddered to a halt just fifteen feet from the line of trees. He walked forward and checked the path he had cleared into the low brush, kicking the dirt around to smooth it over the tangled surface roots. It would do. Just as he put the MALP back into forward motion, Panter was alarmed to hear the low whine and familiar sounds of the Stargate chevrons lighting up one by one. Shit. He wasn't ready for the rest of the stuff yet.

Urgently, he manipulated the remote to drive the MALP into the brush, and shut it down. Using the butt of the Beretta he had appropriated from Jackson days before, Panter smashed the sending and receiving arrays and hastily threw branches and brush over top of the MALP. Satisfied that even if it was located despite the hasty camouflage job, it would be useless, he ran back along the short path through the trees.

Scanning the valley before him, his M16 at the ready, Panter paused at the treeline. The Stargate was active, the event horizon rippling in the late afternoon sunlight. There was no sign of life out there, but still, he waited. It wouldn't do to be caught out in the open if they came back now. Panter snarled to himself. Teal'c and that useless drone Rykert had been back to check out the Stargate at least eight times that he knew of, over the last four days. Each time, they had re-examined the DHD, carefully searched the area for tracks, and given the damaged MALP yet another once-over before heading back to the trail up the cliff wall. And each time, Panter had lain silently in his dug-out depression at the tree's edge, covered with leafy branches and drenched with nervous sweat.

He'd been forced to cower like a sick dog hiding from a pack of wolves. Well, things might have been a little ass-backward up until now, but that was about to change. Deciding the area was clear, Panter jogged over to the dais and began to gather up those packages which had fallen off the FRED as it had come through, pleased to see the special item he had requested right on top of the pile. Hammond may have disregarded him in deciding to send the new MALP and the rest of this crap, despite what Panter had told him and had asked of him, but at least the old fart had done one thing right.

Panter tucked his prize into the waistband of his pants and attended to the task of repacking the FRED so he could remove it from the clearing. He glanced over his shoulder at the original destroyed MALP which still sat at the foot of the steps. Satisfaction brought a sadistic leer to his face. They'd never know. At least, not until it was far too late.

 

* * *

  
  
Teal'c kicked dirt over the dying embers of the fire, turning slightly to watch his friends as they prepared to leave this place. To watch one friend in particular. As Captain Carter, O'Neill and Rykert finished packing up, Daniel Jackson sat perched on a sleeping roll, notes in hand, staring off at... well, Teal'c suspected the archaeologist wasn't seeing much of anything in particular.  
  
The day before had been a long and difficult one for Daniel Jackson as the young man laboured to decipher the remaining glyphs, and the night which had followed had been worse. Teal'c knew his friend had gotten little sleep. Daniel Jackson had spent long hours alternately staring at his notes in the dim light from the fire, and huddled in a ball unsuccessfully fighting bouts of nausea and pain. Teal'c had tried to help but had been rebuffed, as had Colonel O'Neill. Of even more concern was during this last night, as with the entire previous night and day, Captain Carter had not even bothered to make the effort.  
  
"Teal'c, let's just stow this stuff along the back wall for now." He turned to see O'Neill indicating a pile of gear. "We'll just take a couple of day packs and the weapons."  
  
Teal'c nodded in agreement. That was sensible. Should the address be the correct one, they would no longer require any of the gear. Should it not, they would need to return to this place. There was no sense in carrying what was not essential on the trip back to the Stargate. He rose to help, but Captain Carter appeared at his side.  
  
"It's okay, Teal'c. I'll help stow this stuff. Maybe you could re-check the day packs..." She cast a glance in the direction of their ill teammate. "Maybe give Daniel a hand organizing his notes?" Teal'c studied her face. Daniel Jackson did not need help organizing his notes.  
  
Her eyes flicked quickly between him and Daniel Jackson, and she moved away to join O'Neill and Rykert at the far wall. Her expression and actions plainly indicated she needed some distance, but didn't want Daniel left alone. Teal'c supposed he could appreciate her quandary. The continued aftermath of what Teal'c was well aware had been an intense argument between the two pained all of them. The tension between Captain Carter and Daniel Jackson was palpable, disturbingly pervasive. The extent of the rift between them had become all too clear to Teal'c during the past day and two nights, when their friend had repeatedly been ill and Captain Carter had not even attempted to offer assistance.  
  
They were just about ready to leave. Teal'c offered a hand to his friend. "Daniel Jackson, we should leave now." After a moment of hesitation during which Teal'c feared even this most minor of concessions to illness might be rejected, his hand was grasped and he hauled the young man to his feet. Teal'c felt slightly reassured at the remaining strength in the hand that gripped his own, and was gratified to see Daniel was more or less steady on his feet. Nevertheless, Teal'c moved his hand out from Daniel's and placed it on the young man's shoulder. "I will accompany you down the path. Captain Carter can take my place and proceed with Colonel O'Neill."  
  
Teal'c thought he saw faint gratitude mixed with shame, in Daniel's eyes. He mentally shook his head. These Tau'ri could be their own worst enemies at times.

 

* * *

  
  
Jack leaned against the DHD. He watched as Carter sauntered not-so-aimlessly back and forth between the Stargate dais and the boulder just a few feet to his right. He knew she was trying to be discrete about comparing the Stargate ring symbols with those of the DHD, but she wasn't doing a very good job of hiding her concern. Jack was glad Daniel wasn't here yet, that Daniel wasn't aware of the actions which he'd undoubtedly misinterpret as a vote of non-confidence.  
  
She stopped, leaning against the large rock. Jack raised an eyebrow at her. "What?"  
  
She looked hesitant, almost guilty. "I... I don't know. I just wish there was some way of being sure. I mean, if it doesn't work, then we're going to have to hike all the way back up the cliff, right?"  
  
"Well, it _is_ going to work, Carter."  
  
The strong doubt in her eyes disappeared as she obviously, purposefully, blinked it away. "If you say so, Sir." She averted her gaze, mumbling at the ground, "I sure don't want to think about him having to climb back up there."  
  
Jack understood that concern well enough. He and Carter had been careful on the way down to the valley, scouting every nook and cranny, but even so they'd already had almost two hours to survey the Stargate area thoroughly and still there was no sign of the others. Jack knew Teal'c and Rykert could handle anything - anyone, actually - that he and Carter might have missed. There'd been no radio contact, no unmentionable sharp noises filling the air, nor any other indications of a problem... so, Daniel must be moving really slowly. Jack was both stumped and worried almost to the point of distraction. He knew the kid had taken a bad smack to the head, but his continued difficulties, especially the nausea and the ever-increasing weakness, were wearing pretty thin... not to mention that unbearable irritability.  
  
"Carter, just what is it with him? If it were more serious than a concussion, wouldn't he have keeled over by now? He's still with us, but all this other stuff... hell, it's been days."  
  
Yes, but when you think about it, what's happened over those days? There's been no time for him to rest. You and Teal'c..." Jack was glad to see her pause, to obviously decide she was better off not going in that direction.  
  
"Okay, Sir, I've been thinking a bit more about that. I admit I thought it had to be something more serious. But if that were so, he'd be a getting a lot worse. So, I think I was wrong."  
  
Oh, yeah, as if he wasn't worse? Jack really wasn't sure what she was getting at; Daniel was sick as a dog, and steadily going downhill from there. His expression must have said as much, because she hurried to elaborate on her statement. "I meant neurologically, Sir. He's still awake and alert. I don't know for sure, but I think if it were a more serious head injury he'd probably be well on the way to becoming comatose by now." She let out a derisive snort. "That's hardly the case, is it?"  
  
Hardly, was right. It had gotten to the point that Jack sorely wanted to bop Daniel another really good one right on the head, just to see those bleary eyes finally closed for longer than just a few scattered hours at a time. Jack was well aware Carter's turn-around was likely more related to regret over what she had said to Daniel - what the rest of them couldn't help but overhear - than it was an objective appraisal of his condition. But still, she had a point. "Okay, Carter... so what is it, then? We need to keep him functioning here. Daniel was puking his guts up right from the start, and he still can't keep much of anything down."  
  
"Yes, right. So, now he's weak and dehydrated, as well as still having those headaches, and all that just makes him feel worse. That makes sense. I mean, all of his symptoms aren't unusual, right? You've been hit on the head hard enough to put you under for hours, Sir. Remember P4Y332? I seem to recall you not feeling very well for at least 12 hours after that, and all you had to do was lay around and have us fetch and carry for you. And you weren't exactly thinking straight for a while either."  
  
Ah... there it was. He'd known if he waited long enough, the immediate concern which she was trying so hard to skirt around would stick its nasty head out and take a peek at the scenery. Whatever they called Daniel's problem, concussion or anything else, wouldn't change the bottom line. "So you think this might be a post-concussion syndrome kind of thing, made worse by a vicious cycle of pain, the pukes, and a lack of rest. And you don't trust his judgment." Jack waved a hand at the Stargate. "Well, you know what? I buy his argument, Carter. If the little green men who built the Stargate gave us our ideas about the constellations, then they sure could have given the Altairians the same images."  
  
He looked at her for some sign that she was with Daniel here, but he didn't get any. "All right, look... even if he's wrong, what's the worst that can happen? The glyphs won't work, that's all. And if he's right and he does open the Stargate, we've covered all the bases, Carter. We have no way of knowing if or how badly Panter might have spooked the SGC, but the worst that can happen in that case is Hammond might not answer the first time the doorbell rings. But, he _will_ answer, when he receives the GDO code."  
  
"What if he doesn't, Sir?"  
  
"What if he _doesn't_? You know Carter, Daniel's not entirely batty here. You have a negative streak in you. We've all just been far too intimidated by you to say so... except for Daniel. Oh, but on second thought, then, I guess you must be right - Daniel's judgment must be impaired."  
  
Carter didn't respond to the lame attempt at humor. Feeling vaguely unappreciated, Jack reverted to reassurance and positive thinking. If anything was needed here, it was positive thinking. "Daniel's address will work. And we'll know it's right for sure, because Hammond will send another probe when he gets the code and we don't follow it through. It'll be fine, Carter."

 

* * *

  
  
Daniel carefully compared Jack's original sketches with the DHD itself, checking, image by image, line by line, the accuracy of the drawings. He took his time. Any deviations, no matter how slight, could make a world of difference. After all, his basic process for translating the symbols was highly interpretive and while he was absolutely certain of their derivation, the addition or subtraction of a line here or a curl there could conceivably alter an entire conceptualization.  
  
Relieved beyond measure when he found the drawings to be highly accurate, Daniel finally raised his head. "I'm ready."  
  
"Okay. Let's go for it, then." Jack turned and looked at Daniel for a moment, giving him a brief smile of support, before once again turning his back on him.  
  
Jack stood nearby, just the other side of the boulder, with Teal'c several feet beyond him. Both of them faced outward, away from the Stargate and the DHD. Daniel could see Sam and Rykert at the opposite edge of the Stargate clearing, their backs to him, Rykert also concentrating his gaze outward over the low valley which stretched in front of them while Sam looked back at the treed area behind the Stargate. Daniel knew what they were looking out for. Who they were looking out for. His stomach, already quite queasy enough, twisted into yet a tighter knot.  
  
He pushed his nervousness aside. "Right. I'll dial the six locator glyphs, and then start at the top of the outside ring for the point of origin. That's the same symbol that's at the top of the Stargate ring. I hope we don't need to do this very many times..."  
  
Jack nodded without looking at him. Raising his arm, he called out to Carter and Rykert that Daniel was about to begin, before directing a comment Daniel's way. "However many times it takes is okay, Danny. We'll get it. Teal'c gave you his GDO, right?" Then the serious brown eyes quickly turned his way and raked an assessing glance over him. "You feel well enough to handle that?"  
  
"Yeah." Daniel looked at the transmitter strapped to his right wrist. He knew why Jack had asked the question. It wouldn't do to activate the Stargate, only to punch in the wrong code and then sit around and wait for nothing to happen. He remembered the code, he could see the small numbers on the keypad... the weight of the GDO on his arm was reassuring. Yes, he could do this. "Okay, here goes." He punched his first altered glyph, the one he'd identified as having to be Auriga, according to his interpretative use of the Altairian language. The first chevron on the Stargate lit up. His lips held together in a tight line, Daniel pressed on his second choice; what he was certain could only be Cetus. Obediently, the second chevron came to life.  
  
If the glyphs were incorrect, the sequence not a valid address, the DHD and the 'gate would immediately shut down. Daniel knew it was unlikely, on only the first few symbols, he would inadvertently dial an incorrect sequence. He felt sure of his interpretation of the first two symbols, and the next symbol, the one replacing Centaurus, had been relatively easy - it was only slightly altered and the ideogram pleasantly straight-forward. Without so much as a quick breath, Daniel pressed down on it and sure enough the third chevron glowed orange. Daniel heard Jack's grunt of approval. Three down, three to go.  
  
Earth's address, the six constellation pictographs that were so familiar to all of them as to be as memorable as the everyday Arabic numerals one through six, went from Auriga, to Cetus, then Centaurus, and next to Cancer. That had been the most difficult one. Daniel paused, his hand hovering over the foreign symbol which he had designated as Cancer. If there was going to be an error, it would be here. One of two things would happen; either the gate would shut down right away, the sequence of four not forming the first part of any valid address, or it would remain active and Daniel wouldn't know for certain if the symbol he'd chosen as being Cancer was a correct part of Earth's address until he dialed each of the next two glyphs.  
  
"Daniel? Problem?" Daniel jerked his head up at Jack's soft question. He realized his upper arm ached. How long had he been standing here, his hand held over the glyph? Shit. He must have zoned out momentarily. He choked down the acid and the fear which rose in his throat.  
  
"No. It's okay." One quick breath, one quick jab at the symbol, and both the DHD panel and the chevron lit up virtually simultaneously. Daniel looked over toward Jack to find himself facing a huge grin. Jack winked at him before turning his attention back to the surveying the glade. Daniel felt himself break out into a smile of his own, the first in many days of pain and doubt and fear. Scutum and Eridanus were next, and Daniel was inexorably certain of both. The moment of truth was right now... there were only six specific glyphs per individual planet address. If Scutum and Eridanus lit, then Cancer would _have_ to be correct.  
  
They'd be going _home_.

 

* * *

  
Alternately shifting her gaze between her assigned watch of the trees behind the Stargate and Daniel at the DHD, Sam felt her nerves settle as the fifth chevron lit. Even from a distance, even though she stood over fifty feet away, she recognized the change in Daniel's posture. The tense hunch of his shoulders relaxed noticeably, and he casually leaned forward to rest his upper thighs against the front edge of the DHD. As he did so, Sam realized that other than the quick darts of his hand on the glyphs, that was the first time Daniel had actually come into any sort of normal contact with the DHD. As she looked from Daniel over to the Stargate, she realized the change in Daniel's demeanor was far more reassuring than even the sight of the five lit chevrons.  
  
Make that... _six_ lit chevrons. Sam's heart leapt to her throat. The chances against inadvertently entering six symbols which formed a valid address were astronomical. Without actually _knowing_ an address, someone could stand there for weeks and not be able to do what Daniel had just done on the first try. Oh, God. He'd been right. Six symbols. Six points in space, locators for only one possible destination. This was the correct address. He'd done it.  
  
She swung her gaze from the 'gate over to the DHD, to see Daniel duck his head and raise both fists to shoulder level in an unmistakable gesture of both infinite relief and victory. He raised his head and she waved her arm high to catch his attention. God... her chest swelled painfully with the need to tell him just how thankful, how _proud of him_ , and how terribly, horribly, sorry she was. But a wave would have to do.  
  
Sam's relief at the thought that Daniel was taking them home was tempered by the memory of the things she had thought, of what she had said - of what she had done. In no time at all they'd walk through the Stargate together, side by side... but after that? Would they ever be able to comfortably, truly, stand side by side again?  
  
She sagged in sympathy as his demeanor changed again when the Stargate shut down as he pressed the seventh symbol. But that wasn't unforeseen. She knew Daniel had fully expected it would take a bit of experimentation to find the point of origin. That was okay. Sam watched as the Colonel delivered what had to be the same reassurance... as he moved forward, reached out across the boulder, and touched Daniel's shoulder briefly before backing off toward Teal'c.  
  
There was a sudden presence at Sam's own shoulder, and she turned to greet Rykert. His face was split in a huge smile, his eyes moist. The Stargate chevrons were lighting up once again as Daniel punched the six locator glyphs in rapid succession, readying for a second try at finding the point of origin. Sam punched Rykert on the arm. "It's okay. I know it's been a nightmare for you, but we're going back, Ry. Won't be long now."  
  
The heartfelt gratitude on his face almost brought tears to her own eyes. But then his pupils suddenly dilated and he grabbed her wrist, gripping with an intensity that did bring tears to her eyes as his hand painfully twisted her arm. Sam saw the shock in Rykert's eyes at the exact same moment she heard the unmistakable sound of a zat gun firing.  
  
Firing once... twice... three times, in quick succession.  
  
She whirled to face toward where she thought the sound had come from, bringing her M16 up in the same motion, only to let the weapon sink again immediately at the sight of Panter and the rest of SG-1. Teal'c and the Colonel both lay on the ground, Teal'c showing the effects of the zat blast in small tremours while O'Neill lay on his back, knees up and arms clasped tightly across his chest, writhing slightly.  
  
But it was Daniel's situation, jerking in pain from the zat blast as Panter mercilessly used his full weight to pin the smaller man face down against the boulder, which captured her full attention. Panter had the tip of the zat gun pressed firmly against Daniel's head. All that was needed was for Panter to step back from Daniel a pace...  
  
And a second shot, delivered so soon after the first, would kill.

  


* * *

 

Continued in Chapter 2

  



	2. Chapter 2

  
  
Rapidly, Daniel redialed. He knew it would take a while to find the point of origin; the odds against getting it right on the first try were simply too great to ignore. He'd tried the symbol at the top of the Stargate ring in the wild hope this would be one of those Stargates which made finding the point of origin child's play. But he'd suspected the Fates wouldn't be so kind. So why was he so disappointed? Shaking his pounding head slightly in the vain hope that might help to dispel the headache which continued to dog him, Daniel wryly admitted to himself that the odds against him ever having gotten this far were probably just as great. Why not have looked forward to a second miracle?  
  
Oh well. He only hoped it wouldn't take a full thirty-two more tries. His trek down the mountain had been as fraught with sickness as had the entire previous day and night, and Daniel wasn't at all certain how much longer he could stay on his feet. Rubbing the still sore bridge of his nose, he pushed down on the sixth glyph and reached toward the top of the DHD outer ring for a second try at the point of origin. His hand never made it there.  
  
Conscious awareness of the sudden whine of a zat gun was swallowed up completely by the shock and the pain... by the incredible jolt which caused his chest to seize up and his limbs to spasm uncontrollably. Daniel collapsed onto the face of the DHD and would have slid to the ground were it not for the hand which roughly grabbed the back of his vest. He vaguely recognized the sound of two more discharges, was only distantly aware of an impact on his chest and face as Panter whirled him around by his vest and slammed him solidly up against the boulder. He could barely breath, couldn't see, couldn't feel much of anything except the tortuous burning.  
  
As the pain ebbed Daniel became aware first of his position against the hard rock, of the heavy weight against him and the sharp jut of stone digging into his chest, and then of voices. Sam's voice, followed by another one, harsh and loud, just above his left ear. He twisted, trying to see, but the pain and shock hadn't settled enough and with his attempt at movement, associated nausea swamped him. Daniel tried to arch up away from the rock. He was going to throw up; he had to get his face clear of the stone. But something cold and hard pushed against the back of his neck, forcing him down again and he struck his mouth and chin against the boulder. He felt his teeth sink in and tasted blood; swiped his tongue across the inside of his lower lip and felt the fresh split there.  
  
"No... Major Panter, let him up. Please, can't you see? He's going to be sick."  
  
Yeah... can't you _see_... Daniel gagged on the bile which rose in his throat. He struggled to keep control, to push it back down where it belonged. They were talking, more voices joining in - angry voices - and someone was moving around in front of him. Daniel could hear and sense them, but he ignored the words and movement in favour of trying to keep a handle on his rebellious stomach. He tried to take deep breaths but he was pushed too firmly against the uneven and jagged surface of the boulder, his body crushed by Panter pressing too heavily on him from behind. The sharp fluid rose again, filling his mouth, and he gagged as he felt it burn the back of his throat and rise up into his sinuses.  
  
Choking, his eyes stinging and tearing, Daniel pressed his thighs and hands against the boulder and abruptly reared up and backward with all his strength. Panter's response, delayed just enough so Daniel's chest managed to clear the rock by a good twelve inches, was angry and unequivocal. The irate Major let out a loud curse and using both the zat gun and his hand which remained wrapped in the back of Daniel's vest, pulled Daniel backward some before suddenly and powerfully reversing the motion. Putting all his weight into the shove, using his forearms, elbows, and shoulders, Panter viciously slammed him back down onto the rock.  
  
His face impacted the stone just before the rest of him did the same. Daniel felt the give in his chest just seconds before the fresh pain hit. He had no choice but to give up the battle and allow the bile to spew out onto the rock, where it joined with the blood from his split lip.

 

* * *

  
Anger, burning hot and ice cold all within a few seconds. Jack was so angry he could barely see straight. Which all in all, oh God if only it were literally true, might not have been such a bad thing. Because he knew for certain what would come next; that what he was about to see, was something he would be sure to remember for a long time to come. He knew those memories would haunt him late at night, in the dark, when he could erect no defenses. But the Rykert didn't understand; he wasn't listening to Jack.  
  
He grunted as the climbing rope dug deeper into his wrists, drawing blood, his arms and shoulders tense and aching from his struggles. There was only one person he could appeal to but even as he did so, for what had to be the tenth time in half that many minutes, Jack knew that the man would not - could not - alter his course. Ultimately, Rykert was as helpless as those he had just bound so tightly, hand and foot, with the rope from the day pack.  
  
"Look, stop what you're doing and _think_... damn it... just _think_..." There was no response.  
  
Teal'c strained against his bonds. Carter joined in, kicking out with both feet and adding her own desperate warnings to his. Rykert turned a white face toward Jack, helplessness and frantic self-deception evident in his eyes.  
  
The coarse laugh which came from the direction of the DHD infuriated Jack further. The action immediately following the laugh stilled both Jack's voice and his heart. Carter stopped resisting immediately and Jack heard her low gasp of protest as Panter cruelly pushed on the Beretta, driving it cruelly into the soft flesh under Daniel's chin, forcing his head further back against Panter's shoulder. Daniel's throat, already visibly constricted from repeated gagging, spasmed wildly in response and a fresh trickle of blood from his mouth made its way lazily over his jaw and down onto his exposed neck.  
  
Rykert hesitated, casting a confused look toward O'Neill and a terrified one at Panter before bending to secure the knot on the ropes which now bound Carter's ankles. The young marine then plucked the remote from her wrist and threw it toward Panter. "There. That's the last one. Now let him go... you said you'd let him go."  
  
Panter laughed once more and mercilessly twisted Daniel's arm further up the young man's back, pushing the weapon even more firmly against Daniel's neck. Jack seethed silently as he watched Panter dip his head and whisper something into Daniel's ear, then grin maniacally and abruptly yank the end of the pistol around and train it onto Rykert.  
  
Rykert stood stock still, his face paling even further. Panter leered and yanked on Daniel's arm. "Oh, don't worry, Rykert. This one's reserved." Panter waved the Beretta, fanning it back and forth between Rykert and Daniel. "It's just for _him_. Thought it would be a nice touch if he died from his own weapon. Spacemonkey brains everywhere... what a great visual image, eh? But you _saved_ him. You've been a very good boy, Rykert."  
  
Rykert relaxed noticeably. Panter's leer grew wider. Thumbing the safety and dropping the handgun onto the ground next to him, Panter immediately reached across in front of himself, the exact nature of his action hidden behind Daniel's body. "This is the one for _you_." The hand came up holding the zat gun.  
  
Jack knew he had to act, had to do _something_ , no matter how futile the effort. As he threw himself up onto his knees and prepared to do anything it might take short of suicide, he heard the low growl which came from deep within Teal'c' chest and saw that Teal'c was ahead of him. But not far enough ahead as just as Teal'c's lunge brought him into contact with Rykert, knocking the Marine backward, the zat gun whined and spurted. Both Teal'c and Rykert shuddered, the bluish arcs of electricity passing from one body and back to the other binding the two men together in a hellish embrace.  
  
Okay, well, that wasn't exactly the strategy he'd had in mind. Panic flared in Jack's chest and he positively screamed at Teal'c. "Teal'c! Get out of there! _Roll-away-godammit-roll..._ " At the sound of the second discharge and as the bright flash flicked through the air, Jack squeezed his eyes shut in horror. Teal'c... oh God no... Teal'c...  
  
But Carter yelled something about Daniel and there was a roar of disgust from Panter. Jack opened his eyes to see the blue threads harmlessly fade into the dirt to the left of the intended target, and quickly brought his head around just in time to see Panter strike Daniel in the side of the head with the zat gun and push him away. As Daniel collapsed in a heap, Panter raised the zat gun again and Jack followed its path... to see Teal'c twisting away from Rykert. The Jaffa yelled out "No!" as Panter fired again.  
  
Once, twice - and Rykert was no more.  
  
There was no time for Jack to properly register his own anger and grief, as Panter whirled and in a fit of rage trained the zat gun onto Daniel. He kicked out and screamed at the fallen man, obviously one step away from completely losing all control. "You stupid shit! I've had enough of you... you won't ever do that again! You want some? You want some more of this, here, I'll give you some..." The zat discharged once again as Daniel frantically tried to roll out of the way, the point of impact ending up on the ground to the right of Daniel's head as the coarse tremours of Panter's rage threw his aim off just enough to help Daniel out.  
  
Carter saved it. "Don't! Panter, stop and think. The DHD blanked out... you don't know all the symbols do you? You can't be sure you'll remember them right. He's the only one who can get you home! Panter, think!"  
  
Silence, thick and suffocating, fell over them as Panter pulled back his arm and stood, shaking, staring first down at Daniel and then over to the Stargate. Then over at the rest of them. He turned and leaned over the DHD, brushing his fingertips lightly over the carved glyphs. Staring concertedly at he face of the DHD, he broke the quiet with a monotonous yet infinitely menacing tone of voice. "I'm going to have you dial this up again, Jackson. I know it won't work if you dial it wrong, so you won't try anything funny. You blow it, and someone's going to die. And then, Doctor Spacemonkey, we're going to keep on going through it until we get the point of origin, until the 'gate opens, so I know it's done right."  
  
Panter turned his head to stare fixedly at Jack. "And you, Colonel, and your little friends, are going to just shut up and lay there. Not a single word. Because if I hear so much as a sneeze out of any of you, I'll be only too happy to have Jackson here dial it up all alone."  
  
Jack didn't need any explanation of that last comment, nor was it hard to judge the seriousness of the threat. Panter needed at least one of them alive to be sure of maintaining control over Daniel. Each one of them represented an essential increment of power. He returned the stare as openly as he could, considering he had to twist sideways in order to make eye contact. "You're going to make sure you end up alone, anyway."  
  
Panter shook his head and laughed, quietly. He sounded almost pensive. "Oh, yeah. I'll be going home... alone." He straightened up and in a suddenly uncertain gesture, scrubbed his hand through his hair. His voice became so soft as to be difficult to hear. "I didn't mean it. Jackson, you saw it. He attacked me... he made me..."  
  
Jack opened his mouth to call the man a bloody liar, an insane maniac, but then caught the look on Carter's face; the one that told him in no uncertain terms that he needed to just _shut up_ right now. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved.  
  
Daniel groaned and with a convulsive movement noisily threw up on himself.  
  
Panter snapped out of his reverie and cast a disgusted look Daniel's way. "You're a goddamned mess, Jackson." He reached down and grabbed Daniel by the upper arm, hauled him to his feet, and shoved him over to the DHD. "Dial it up again."  
  
Jack simply nodded as Daniel cast him a pained and uncertain look. They really had no choice. He, Carter and Teal'c were securely trussed up with the unbreakable nylon climbing rope, Panter had all their weapons and the remote transmitters, and Daniel was in no condition to even try to take on the big man. God. How could he have let things get to this point? Jack chastised himself for not having taken the time to hunt down Panter days ago. That had been a stupid decision.  
  
Panter stood on the opposite side of Daniel, where he could both supervise the DHD and keep an eye on the rest of SG-1. With one hand gripping Daniel's upper arm and the other holding the zat gun against the young man's head, Panter was muttering softly to Daniel as he dialed. Daniel's head turned slightly as he gave an answer, and Panter nodded. Jack couldn't hear what they said, but from the look of Panter's relaxed stance, he figured Daniel was being very cooperative. Jack's eyes narrowed and he mustered all the mental aggression he could as he stared at Panter. If he couldn't sass the man with his mouth, then he'd just have to satisfy himself with doing it in some other way.  
  
Panter must have felt the stare, as he turned his head toward Jack and returned it. How very rewarding. But then the maniac gave Jack an evil leer and turned his attention back to Daniel, roughly yanking on Daniel's arm and waggling the zat gun as if to prove a point to O'Neill. Okay, so maybe it wasn't so rewarding after all. Jack gave up; the only one to suffer from any belligerence on his part would be Daniel, and he didn't want that. Enough was enough. Jack wondered, yet again, about the zat gun. He had a theory about that and he swept the area around the Stargate with his eyes, searching for any signs of confirmation, but from his position on the ground he couldn't see anything worth getting excited about.  
  
He settled his gaze on his friend, doing a quick assessment. Daniel bled from a few spots; from a graze on his chin, and with a stronger trickle intermittently coming from his mouth. Erratic blood trails snaked along his jawline and down his neck like highway lines on a map. Every few minutes Daniel would turn his head and spit... it was all too clear just what it was he was trying to get rid of. There was blood higher up on his face as well, from the old laceration on his forehead which seemed to have opened up a bit, but at least that flow had stopped now. Abstractedly, it occurred to Jack that Carter would probably be miffed about that; she'd put a lot of care into cleaning up that particular gouge. And Daniel's clothing... Jack wrinkled his nose, not even wanting to think about how uncomfortable Daniel must be with that.  
  
Daniel was still on his feet, though, legs spread widely, leaning forward as he pressed his thighs against the front edge of the DHD and pushed on the glyphs with one hand. Jack frowned when he noticed Daniel's other hand was pressed to his chest. He saw Daniel sway slightly and shake his head, and Jack knew the kid was having considerable trouble. Even so, he was doing it. Jack marveled at his stamina; Daniel was rapidly dialing over and over again, working his way around the outer ring trying for the point of origin. Six chevrons repeatedly lit, only to wink out as the wrong seventh symbol was pushed.  
  
When the seventh chevron finally did light up, Panter let out a loud whoop and clapped Daniel on the back hard enough that the young man collapsed onto the face of the DHD. With an exclamation of impatience, Panter pulled Daniel back from the DHD, not giving him a second glance as Daniel stumbled and fell. Panter reached forward and activated the Stargate. Jack's heart leaped in his chest at the familiar whoosh and turbulence, only to immediately turn to stone as he remembered that Panter was the only one going through.  
  
Daniel was on his knees, grabbing for Panter, latching onto the man's pant leg and although Jack couldn't make out the words at that distance, he could see the rapid chatter and the pleading expression. He could imagine the exact nature of the appeal Daniel must be making, the tact he must be taking. Won't work, Danny...  
  
Jack figured he was proven right when Panter leaned over and grabbed Daniel by the hair, forcefully tipping the injured man's head back and coming nose to nose with him. Words were exchanged, _a lot_ of words. That uncomfortable conversation seemed to go on forever, although Jack knew that it only seemed that way, mostly because of the pained expression on Daniel's face. Jack was getting damned tired of seeing people in pain.  
  
Suddenly Panter let go and pushed Daniel flat onto the ground. Daniel lay there on his stomach, motionless. Panter walked around the boulder toward Carter and pointed the zat gun at her. "Dr. Jackson and I have come to an agreement here. Now, I'm going to leave. And you people aren't." Panter looked across to Daniel, who still lay unmoving. He smiled. "Good. At least one of you knows how to take an order." He laughed. "Who'd ever of thought it would be him?"  
  
Panter withdrew the zat gun and moved over to where the packs and weapons were stacked. As soon as Panter had left Sam and walked off to the equipment, his back turned to the area of the DHD, Jack saw Daniel make his move.  
  
With lunge more energetic than Jack would have thought possible considering Daniel's condition, Daniel launched himself over to where the pistol still lay on the ground beside the boulder. Jack watched with his heart in his throat as Daniel managed to snatch up the weapon just as Panter heard the noise and whirled back to face him, the zat coming around with him. Jack knew it was only a few seconds during which the two men stared at one another, in which Daniel fumbled with the safety and the two weapons came around to bear, but it seemed to be happening in slow-motion. The seconds seemed to stretch into eternity.  
  
Jack was only too well aware Daniel had never harmed a fellow human before. He'd helped defend them against the Jaffa, against the Goa'uld presence which stole his wife and his home from him and threatened his new life... but this was different. Jack willed Daniel's shaking hand to steady, to aim, to just _do it_ and save the regret for later, but at the same time Jack decided if Daniel couldn't do that, it would be okay. Because that was Daniel. Whatever happened would just have to be okay. Enough was enough.  
  
The click-whine of the zat gun was all but inaudible as the Beretta discharged. Jack wanted to scream out 'all right' as the blue arc of energy never came and Panter fell to the ground clutching his side. There was blood there. Daniel scrambled up onto his knees, the pistol still trained on the other man, but the gun wavered alarmingly. _Daniel_ wavered alarmingly, and Panter was moving... rising up himself, not just onto his knees but continuing the motion until he was standing. Jack saw murder on the man's face.  
  
Jack screamed to Daniel to _shoot_ , and half-heard Teal'c and Carter also urging Daniel to fire again. And Daniel responded. Jack knew Daniel was trying his best but it was clear his strength was flagging. He tried, but his aim was off, and this time the blue arc of energy did appear, snaking its way across the distance to Daniel and driving the young man to the ground in a writhing heap. And this time Jack found himself screaming a denial as Panter reasserted the aim of the zat gun and took a step forward toward Daniel.  
  
Just one step. An unsteady step. Then the man's arm lowered and he sank to his knees, a pained expression on his face. Panter gaped at the spreading bloodstain on his vest and jacket, and then at the Stargate. He turned his head and stared directly at Jack before turning his gaze onto Daniel. Inexplicably, he _thanked_ the still twitching young man. "Halfway decent shot, Dr. Spacemonkey. But I'm still breathing, and you know, this is going to help things. Pretty good idea." Panter rose unsteadily and looked back to Jack. "You're all dead anyway."  
  
Under his fear and disappointment Jack felt a wild hope well up inside him. Amazingly enough, Daniel hadn't yet been zatted into oblivion, and the initial shot was starting to wear off. Maybe Panter wasn't going to shoot them all where they lay after all. He had no idea what Panter's comment to Daniel could have meant, but with a bit of luck, maybe they would all live long enough to wonder about it together.  
  
Without warning, Panter brought zat gun up and disintegrated the entire pile of packs, equipment, and weapons with a series of quick shots. Then he just as quickly entered the code on the single remaining remote and staggered to the Stargate. Within seconds, he was gone. Seconds after that, so was the wormhole.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Part Six**

Daniel lay on his stomach, his cheek to the ground and his head turned away from his friends, struggling to catch his breath and regain some control over his still trembling body. Sam's life depended on his cooperation but when Panter had turned away, Daniel really thought he could do it. The gun was right there, not five feet away... and then all their lives were put into the balance because of that decision; everything had depended on him. And he had blown it. It looked like Panter had decided they weren't worth the effort; he'd let them live. But for what? Unwilling to even try to dredge up and expend the energy required to lift his head and spit out the mixture of bile, blood, and saliva which threatened to choke him, Daniel swallowed it and immediately his gut rebelled. He gagged it back down. God... this really sucked.

He heard the gate shut down. With a thankful sigh and a huge effort he turned his head and, resting his forehead on the ground, opened his mouth to let the reflux of fluid drain out down his chin and into the dirt. Yeah. This really sucked, all right. In addition to the problems which had plagued him for days, now his whole body tingled painfully and his chest... there was definitely something wrong there. This really sucked big time. Majorly, big time. He suddenly, incongruously, found himself giggling. Majorly sucked, as in Major Panter, Majorly Sucked Big Time. This was all just too much. He was so bloody tired. He giggled again. _Bloody_ Majorly Sucked Big Time. Daniel was aware he was in danger of losing it completely, but he didn't care. The giggle swelled.

He had just struggled for three days through the most massive headache he'd ever had in his entire life and one big long marathon bout of nausea, to successfully complete the linguistics challenge of a lifetime... and for what? So Mr. Bloody Majorly Sucked Big Time could go home and tell Hammond that the rest of them were dead, killed off by an irate army of Jaffa.

What a fucking joke. A Majorly Sucked Big Time Fucking Joke. The giggle turned into laughter... and as the whatever-it-was-that-had-happened in his chest majorly-big-time-protested, the laughter was joined by tears. As it turned out, there wasn't much time for wallowing, though.

"Daniel... hang on for just one minute, buddy. Just one more; you can do it. Come on over here and untie us." Jack. Loud. Overly encouraging.

"Daniel Jackson. We require your assistance." Teal'c.

The giggle briefly renewed itself. Of course it was Teal'c. Who else would say that?

"Daniel? Are you okay?" Sam, her voice shaking.

Oh God... another stupid statement. Yeah, fine, just _peachy_ \- How are you? This time there was no giggle.  
For as long as possible, Daniel tried to ignore them. One part of him understood they had to be pretty uncomfortable laying there all trussed up, and he also realized that they had to know he'd just gone a tad bit hysterical here. It was likely they were just as concerned for him as for themselves. But there was another part of him - the disturbing part that had surfaced a few days ago and now, with this terrible turn of events, felt like it was making itself right at home, settling in for the duration - that really couldn't give a shit about what they thought or felt.

"Danny... for crying out loud, answer us..."

Why? What was the rush? There really wasn't anywhere to go, anyway. After he'd tried so hard, done his best... oh, shit. Reluctantly, Daniel raised himself onto his forearms, spitting to get rid of the blood which just kept seeping from the bruised and torn area in his mouth. He'd worked so hard - As Daniel stared at the disgusting glob of sputum soaking into the dirt, he felt his confused mass of emotions morph into white-hot anger. They hadn't believed in him. Jack hadn't even wanted him to be here, to try this. That old wimpy part of him said that was because Jack cared, had wanted to keep him safe, but Daniel pushed it aside. He preferred to be angry than confused just then. Let's see... what else was there he could get mad about? Ah, Teal'c. Teal'c had patronized him to the point of being insipid, and Sam... Sam... Daniel shoved her name aside.

"Daniel Jackson. Are you able to rise?"

Rise? Oh, yeah, sure, Teal'c. Rise to the occasion... don't I always?

"Come on, Daniel. This isn't exactly the way I planned on spending my old age..."

Hell, even he himself hadn't held out any solid hope, at least not until he'd remembered about Altair. He'd lucked out, that's all. Simply lucked out. Daniel snorted. The only person who had really lucked out, the only one who had thought even for a red hot minute that Daniel could solve this, was now back at the SGC no doubt being fussed over in the infirmary and looking forward to a nice long hot shower. Daniel allowed his head to sink back down into the dirt. What he'd give for a long hot shower right about now.

"Daniel, it's okay. Don't try to move. We're okay... you just stay there." There were scraping noises. "Just hold on a second, just let me - " Sam's voice was uneven.

"Carter..."

"With respect - Shut up, Sir." There were more noises; soft indistinguishable words, then scraping and shuffling and grunting. "Daniel, I'm coming over to you. I'm coming. Hang on, okay? It'll be all right. I'm on my way."

Whatever it was that had given in his chest was like a stab of pleasure compared to the heart-rending eruption Daniel suddenly felt. Oh, Sam. He couldn't take it any more, it was over, he was done. Scared, so scared. He put his face in his hands. Oh shit, oh God. Sam... Sam please help, so tired so very very... sorry, so so sorry...

 

* * *

.  
  
He was conscious, moving around a little, they could see that. He'd been _giggling_... and he wasn't responding, apparently not even making the effort to get up and help them. It wasn't hard to tell the Colonel was about to become more than just a little insistent. He obviously thought that was a form of encouragement, a way to be helpful.  
  
"Daniel... it's okay. Don't try to move. We're okay... you just stay there." Sam rolled over and fought to maneuver onto her knees. She wobbled slightly, finding it difficult to keep her balance with her hands tied behind her back. "Just hold on a second, just let me - "  
  
"Carter..." She looked over to the Colonel. He seemed impatient.  
  
"With respect - Shut up, Sir." To Sam's amazement, he did. O'Neill gave her a tight-lipped look and squirmed around to glance back toward Daniel, but he kept his mouth shut. What sure looked to Sam like uncertainty flooded his face. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Sir... he can't, okay? I think he's hit his limit." She tried to shuffle forward on her knees, but the ropes on her ankles were too tight for that.  
  
"Daniel, I'm coming over to you. I'm coming. Hang on, okay? It'll be all right. I'm on my way."  
  
"Try it on by wriggling forward on your side. I'll head over to Teal'c; we can work on these ropes."  
  
Sam nodded gratefully at O'Neill and dropped forward onto her side, one shoulder against the ground. That was better... it wasn't easy, and she knew she'd end up with bruised shoulders and hips for certain, but she'd get there. Snaking forward, she began to make her way over to where Daniel still lay on his stomach, sparing one quick glance behind her to see the Colonel and Teal'c moving closer to one another.  
  
It didn't take her long to cover most of the distance between them. Daniel looked up when she was about six feet away. "Wait. You'll hurt yourself." The words were indistinct. He raised himself up onto his knees, and wobbled there momentarily before getting to his feet. He looked awful, and not just because of his obvious emotional state and visible physical injuries. Sam thought there was something else there, something beyond what she already knew about - the split lip and lacerations, the headaches and nausea. She pasted an encouraging smile on her face and balanced on her knees, waiting for him.  
  
Daniel knelt beside her, and just before he ducked his head and reached around behind her Sam caught and held his eyes with her own for a split second. Something terrible lurked there. He fumbled with the tight knot and then dropped his hands. "I... it's... the knot's really tight. He took my knife." He raised his hands to his face, turned his head, and spat out a bit of blood.  
  
"That's okay. We'll find something else." She struggled up off the ground, raising herself onto her knees to make it easier for him.  
  
He returned his hands to her wrists, and she felt him working at the knot. "There is... nothing... else." Sam's arms were pulled backward as Daniel yanked on the ropes in frustration. As he leaned against her, she heard a faint grunt and felt the uneven vibrations of his chest against her arm.  
  
"Daniel?" Sam twisted to get a look at his face but he shifted his position, dropping from his knees to sit on the ground further behind her. She settled back onto her heels and Daniel leaned forward, resting his head on the back of her shoulder. She could hear his breathing - short, pained gasps - and felt the tremors which ran through him. "Daniel... he hurt you, didn't he? Let me see you."  
  
"Sam... I..." Daniel's voice was muffled as he spoke into her jacket. "I'm all right. Just forget it."  
  
He straightened up and she felt him go back to work on the knot again. The tension eased enough so she knew that he had gotten it undone, but he didn't release the ropes. Sam flexed her wrists intending to pull her arms apart, but she felt his hands cover her own and she stopped. His hands were cold. She waited.  
  
"Sam, look... I... I didn't mean any of it."  
  
Her heart broke at the distress in his voice. "Oh, Daniel."  
  
"I think... there's something wrong with me, Sam. With, my head, like you... I think you were right." He backed off, away from her. "I'm... I'm not..." The words turned into a grunt, and he coughed.  
  
Sam twisted her arms, pulling them out from the grip of the loose ropes. The coughing degenerated into gagging, and she heard him spit again. She turned and reached for him, the rope dangling from one wrist as she placed her hands on his shoulders. "No, Daniel. Oh, God, I am so sorry. Your head is okay, please, don't worry about that." He closed his eyes, shook his head, and she gripped him tighter. "You're just sick, Daniel, you need some rest, that's all. I was wrong, I had no right to say what I did."  
  
Daniel shook his head again and raised his hands to cover his eyes. He licked his lips and winced as his tongue passed over the sore spot. "No. You, I... Oh, hell. Never mind. You get the rest of these ropes off. I'll... I'll go get Jack and Teal'c free."  
  
Daniel got to his feet, wrapping one arm around his chest, and would have staggered off had it not been for the restraining hand Sam placed on his thigh. "No... I can get them in a minute. Daniel, what's wrong with your chest?" He simply shook his head again, and she glared at him.  
  
"I think it's a cracked rib or something." He turned to leave. "It'll be fine."  
  
She quickly reached out and grabbed his wrist, almost overbalancing with the effort. "Does it hurt to breathe?" He didn't answer, but the look on his face was enough. More than enough. Oh God, not this too. "Wait... Daniel, please..."  
  
Fear for him, for all of them, flowed through her. If he didn't trust her enough to tell her what was wrong, how could she help? It was past time to admit her own culpability in all that had happened between them. To admit it to herself, as well as to him. "I was wrong before. I was wrong about the symbols, I was wrong to treat you the way I did, I was wrong about _you_. God, Daniel..." Her voice cracked as she fought to control herself. It wouldn't help either of them if she gave in to the overwhelming urge to cry right now. She'd do that after they were out of this mess, later, back home... if there was a later-back-home. "I was worried, and I was overbearing. Look, I was wrong to say what I did. It was cruel."  
  
Sam looked at him, noticing the way he held himself, the way he refused to meet her eyes. His entire stance screamed of an internal battle going on, the need to believe and find some way to trust warring with exhaustion, fear, and pain. "Daniel, don't end up punishing yourself for something I did. Some of the things you said, well, I think you _did_ mean them at the time, and that's okay because there is some truth in it. But we have to get past that. You can't go on like this. You're sick, and now you can hardly breathe. You're hurt, Daniel. Please, we need to take care of it. I don't want... God, I don't want to lose you because we can't _back up_."  
  
He looked at her briefly with a tortured expression on his face which plainly said he couldn't handle this right then, and dropped his gaze to stare at the ground. He looked totally spent, _lost_. Sam bent and tugged at the ropes around her ankles, hoping Daniel would stay there long enough for her to free her feet. He did. She took him by the arm and he didn't look at her, speak, nor resist as she led him over the DHD. Her throat constricted with the effort of holding back the tears and her voice cracked as she tried to gain some sort of acknowledgment from him. "Daniel, are you with me here? Sit down, okay? Just lean up against here, and I'll go free Teal'c and the Colonel." He allowed her to guide him to the ground, and she lightly kissed his forehead as he leaned up against the DHD pedestal. There was no response. "We'll be right back, Daniel."  
  
When she reached the other two, despite her worry Sam couldn't help but shake her head and throw up her hands in mock resignation. The exaggerated look of exasperation on O'Neill's face, as he and Teal'c lay back-to-back in an entirely futile effort to loosen one another's bindings, would had made even Daniel crack a wry smile. Sam took a look behind her at Daniel as she crouched beside Teal'c. He was leaning up against the DHD where she had left him not two minutes before, but with one big difference. He was fast asleep.

 

* * *

  
  
Jack figured he wouldn't even bother with the 'what have we got what do we need' shtick. They had nothing, and needed everything. They had the bedrolls and cooking utensils back up in the cave, but they didn't have any canteens - they had all been with the now disintegrated daypacks - nor any weapons for hunting. They didn't have even so much as a nail file between them, their vest pockets having been picked clean by Rykert. Sleeping bags and pots wouldn't put a dent in their situation.  
  
And all of Daniel's notes - every scrap of the Altairian writing he had so desperately dredged up, every one of the myriad of pages of painstaking transcription from the village, all of the hard work he had put into identifying the Earth symbols - were gone too. Sure, they had the address to Earth but even if they used it, there was no way they'd be able to actually make contact with the SGC without a transmitter. Hammond wasn't in the habit of sending new MALPs on spec to planets where teams were off-world, when unexpected incoming wormholes were established. But, then again...  
  
Jack was desperate to know what Panter and Daniel had spoken about at the DHD, but Daniel was asleep and Carter had made it perfectly clear she wouldn't need so much as a nail file for what she'd do to anyone who disturbed him. Truthfully, though, Jack was just as glad she had stopped him from rousing Daniel. As he'd crouched next to the kid, fully intending to wake him, Jack had been alarmed at the hitch in Daniel's breathing and the coldness of his face and hands. He rather doubted Panter would have given Daniel details about any contact the Major might have had with Earth, in any case.  
  
"There is the matter of the zatnikatel."  
  
Yeah, Teal'c. So true. Again, Jack wondered about just that. Panter had obviously been in contact with the SGC. So, what else might have been sent? "Right. He got a zat gun, and we know it didn't show up until sometime after we found Daniel and set up camp at the village. Unless Panter's got super powers we know nothing about, Hammond must have sent another MALP for communication." He stood up and brushed the dirt off his pants. "It has to be around here somewhere. Let's go see if we can find it."  
  
"Sir. Even if you find it, it probably won't be intact... but Major Panter couldn't just ask for a single zat gun and nothing else, could he? Wouldn't General Hammond wonder about that?" Carter stood as well, seemingly intending to come along.  
  
"Yeah, he probably would. No matter what Panter told him about the rest of us, he'd still need supplies for himself. So... we're looking for a secret stash. Although if he had a single brain cell left in his head, he used the zat to blow away anything we'd find useful " Jack motioned toward Daniel. "We'll go, Carter. You stay here. If Daniel wakes up, see if you can find out what Panter told him."  
  
Indicating the treed area right next to the DHD, Jack motioned to Teal'c and the two of them set off. It took less than five minutes to find the now-exposed dug-out hollow in the ground where Panter had lain in wait. Jack groaned to himself. He and Carter had scouted there when they'd arrived in advance of Daniel and the others, but obviously Panter had crept in behind them after that. They should have swept the area again before Daniel went to dial out. Another oversight on his part... one that had left Daniel, at the DHD not twenty feet away, wide open to the attack from Panter. Visions of a metal-lined corridor and the smell of blood and burnt flesh assailed him. It sure looked like this was the 'out to get Daniel' month of the year, and if there'd have been a contest to see who was best at it, Jack figured he'd have won hands down.  
  
Ten minutes later, Jack found to his infinite pleasure that he hadn't been alone in screwing up. No more than fifty feet beyond Panter's hiding place, barely enclosed by the edge of a deep thicket, Jack found the other man's oversight. The Major hadn't used the zat gun to its fullest potential after all. Ineptly buried under a huge pile of loose shrubs and branches was a FRED, loaded with SGC issue duffel bags, a couple of plastic box containers, one medium-sized metal trunk, and a much, much larger trunk. All right. As he started pulling away the brush, Teal'c joined him. Jack was pretty sure there was gloating scorn in the big guy's eyes.  
  
A quick examination showed the duffle bags and containers were packed with MREs, clothing, one large field tent, and most thankfully, a complete field medical kit. One of the well equipped ones. In the large metal trunk was a disassembled field generator and a supply of fuel. No wonder Panter hadn't bothered with the zat. It probably would have taken forever to poof all this stuff. Evidently, the single working brain cell which must have been responsible for Panter's probable recognition of that, hadn't survived Daniel's assault on him with the gun; Panter had left them alive despite this stuff being here.  
  
Teal'c broke open the smaller trunk to find an assortment of Daniel's reference books, a digital video recorder, and a laptop computer complete with two spare batteries and an external digital tape player. A broad smile spread across Jack's face at the thought of how pleased Daniel would be. It wasn't enough to offset Jack's feeling of having failed Daniel, but it sure would help to keep him from dwelling on it. Now, if they could just find that MALP. Panter had left all this stuff; maybe he had kept the MALP intact as well. Jack glanced up at the darkening sky. They had about another hour of daylight in which to seek deliverance.

 

* * *

  
  
Daniel buried his head in the compact pillow, trying to block out the insistent dull roar which had... uhh, which had... had, what?... had woken him... up... ah, wait just a minute here -  
  
A pillow?  
  
All right... confused. Very confused.  
  
He could have sworn he was still on P-whatever. The quick flash of scenery he'd noted when he cracked his eyes open sure looked like the planet he'd last seen before everything went away. Shadowy images of rocks, dirt, stars in a foreign night sky, and the flickering glare of a nighttime campfire directly in his line of sight. True, he hadn't gotten a really good look before squeezing them shut again as twin bolts of pain darted right through his retinas into his brain. But he was sure he could feel the uneven ground he lay on and the hard stone base of the DHD pedestal against his hip, as he struggled to either fully wake up or blessedly drift back to sleep. He was pretty sure he preferred the latter, but it just didn't seem to want to happen.  
  
Something smelled different. Okay, well actually, it seemed to be _him_ that smelled different. Fresher, cleaner, tinged with a faint odour of soap and starch. Ah, oh-kaay? A pillow, a downy fresh scent and, oh what's this... a vague memory of being prodded and shuffled around, of hurting and not being able to do anything about it, of touches and sounds and voices he couldn't quite interpret. Daniel began to bring his arm up to shade his eyes, preparing to risk opening them again, and was surprised to feel ridged fabric covering his body. It wasn't soft but it was obviously, even just to the touch, clean. And warm. Okay. Maybe he wasn't on the planet any more. He'd been rocked and rolled and apparently cleaned up, blanketed and pillowed. Maybe he was in heaven.  
  
No, that wasn't right either, because the more awake he got the more aware he became not only that the objectionable noise was actually in his own head, but also of the deep ache in his chest and the way his body seemed to float and twist with the slightest movement. Even with his eyes closed, with no visual point of reference, he was certain the world around him was tilting and sliding in a most sickening manner. Surely heaven would offer more comforts than just a clean smell, a pillow, and a warm blanket. Like, maybe an end to this far-beyond-ridiculous constant sickness?  
  
So, not heaven. Not yet, anyway. Shifting slightly, the state of his mortal coil was all too clear as the roar in his head swelled and pressed at his skull, threatening to force his eyeballs right out of their sockets. It was a good thing he still had his eyes closed - it was probably all that kept them from shooting out like cannon balls. Sam had thought something bad was going on in his head and if this pressure was any indication, she was likely right. Intense panic and fear welled up and he felt an overpowering urge to bolt upright, to go, to _run_... to, where? Nowhere. There was nowhere to go. It had taken him over three days to find the path to Earth, and Panter had come along and promptly stolen their ticket home. If Sam was right - which she was - Daniel doubted he'd live long enough to figure out another route.  
  
He may as well just lay where he was, fear and regret and headache-head-rush and all. He may as well just turn his face into the pillow and - a pillow? Where the hell did a pillow come from? Daniel turned his head as far into the softness as he could without risk of asphyxiating himself and cautiously opened his eyes. Yes... a pillow. A standard SGC-issue compact camp pillow. They didn't have any pillows in their gear. That meant... it... that... oh God! Daniel's eyes snapped all the way open and he pushed himself up onto his hands, but he went both up and back at the same time and the top of his head came into abrupt contact with edge of the dialing pad.  
  
It hurt. But more than that, the world visciously tipped to one side and Daniel reached out with the hand not firmly plastered to the top of his head, groping for some sort of anchor. Trees and rocks and dancing flames spun in assorted directions all at once and his stomach joined in, matching the sickening dance with unique steps of its own. Loud voices and a crunching noise added to the assault on his disturbed senses, and he felt himself falling over as his hand came into contact with... nothing at all. Just in time, a hand gripped his arm and he felt himself being safely guided back to the pillow.  
  
"Jesus, Daniel! A real glutton for punishment, aren't you?" Jack's voice was just that little bit too loud to be entirely welcome. Daniel peered at the concerned face which floated in slow circles above him, and carefully moved one finger up to his mouth in what he intended as a 'shush'. He ended up poking himself in the nose. Ah God. No, please, no. A hand closed around his own and Jack's voice, much softer this time, was accompanied by a low chuckle. "Okay, okay, I get the idea. Just do us all a favour, okay, don't try to do anything. Just lay there. You're likely to take your eye out or something."  
  
Oh, yeah, real funny. Here he was dying of a brain injury - he couldn't see straight and he couldn't even coordinate his own limbs any more - and Jack was joking around. Daniel felt the tears spring into his eyes and the cry move into his throat, and was helpless to hold back either of them. Crying. He was crying... in front of Jack. Shit. What a way to go. Leaving with style, Jackson.  
  
Jack was shushing him, murmuring in a steady voice and Daniel felt a warm hand on the side of his face. He did his best to suck back the sounds of his own distress and was rewarded with a slight smile from Jack. "Hey, big guy. It's okay. I know you feel like shit, but we can help you now. Everything is going to be all right." What? Help? Daniel barely had time to recognize his own confusion over those words, before Jack's head turned away as he called out behind him. "Carter, how long has it been? He's all messed up."  
  
Then there were two faces rotating above him, and more words to puzzle over. "At least a couple of hours, Sir. What's wrong?"  
  
"I dunno. Just all - discombobulated."  
  
Sam's gentle smile floated off her face to the left, twisted first one way and then the other, and then slowly settled back to its proper place. "Ah. I'm afraid I'm not familiar with that diagnosis, Colonel. Daniel? Daniel, can you understand me?"  
  
Yes. Oh, okay, well, he could hear her. Understanding was another story. He didn't understand much of anything just then. When her smile turned into a frown, Daniel realized he was staring at her and hadn't actually responded aloud. Clearing his throat, he gave it a try. "Y..hmm... yeah. I-I'm hear, no, I mean, I hear you. I don't understand, though. What's, what's going on?"  
  
The smile returned. Daniel found if he screwed up his eyes just right and really concentrated, it even stayed put on her face where it ought to be. When she spoke, though, the movement of her lips seemed out of sync with her voice. "Okay, well, do you think you can answer a few questions for me?"  
  
Oh yeah, he knew this drill. "Daniel Jackson. July 8th, '65. He's Jack, you're Sam, my head hurts, my chest hurts, and everything is going around in circles." As Sam nodded her approval, it occurred to Daniel that he shouldn't be able to see her as clearly as he could. It was full night, wasn't it? He lifted his head to have a look around, and just as everything seemed to tip so far over that it seemed the ground would slip right out from under him, he caught a glimpse of a bright spot of light - a battery lantern resting atop the boulder not three feet from where he lay. His eyes pulsed in time with the pounding in his head and spots of red and black appeared in his field of vision. He tried to bring his other hand up to his face to cover his eyes, but couldn't seem to get it out from under the blanket.  
  
The blanket. A lantern, a pillow, and the blanket. Okay, he had a few questions of his own to ask. Closing his eyes against the light and unsuccessfully struggling to free his imprisoned hand, the only thing he actually managed to force out was an incoherent curse of frustration. He kicked out at the uncooperative blanket, only to entangle his legs in it. Then Jack's hands pushed lightly on his shoulders, and Daniel heard the concern in Jack's voice as he addressed Sam. "Carter, how much did you give him, for Christ sake? He's got all the coordination of overcooked spaghetti."  
  
"Well, it was you wanted me to do it, Sir. I thought we should wait until he was fully awake so I could judge..."  
  
"Don't give me that. You were the one who insisted we had to change his clothes and clean him up."  
  
"Well, yes. It was the perfect time to do it. He was pretty much unconscious. Do you really think he would have let us do that otherwise? You're the one who wanted him to have the shot even though he wasn't really awake."  
  
Wait a minute... give him how much of what? A shot? Daniel listened to the peeved voices, trying to sort out what was going on here. He'd thought his current state had to be because he was finally showing the effects of increased pressure in his head, bleeding into his brain, but then again - God... maybe not? Oh, please.  
  
"Oh yeah, and you expected me to just go ahead with it once he started moaning and groaning like that?"  
  
"For all we know, he wasn't consciously feeling anything. He'd probably never remember it even without the shot, Sir. "  
  
Disconnected awareness of moving, being pulled on, rolling, of pain, of touch and sound and helplessness. Daniel licked his lips, felt the raw and still very sore split on the inside of his lower lip, and did his best to speak loudly enough to be heard. "I remember."  
  
"Well that's not the point, Carter. You don't have to remember pain to be _in_ pain. Christ."  
  
"We don't know for sure he was - Well, anyway, I didn't give him very much. I'm not sure why..."  
  
Okay, so evidently he'd failed. Daniel drew in a breath and tried again. "Sam. Jack. I do."  
  
"What?" Two voices answered him, two concerned and surprised faces drew closer. He tried to smile at them, but from the deepening frowns he figured it must not have been an exactly award-winning attempt.  
  
"You do, what?" Jack looked worriedly from Daniel over to Sam as he spoke. "See? All messed up."  
  
Sam peered at him for a moment and reached for his face. He felt the coolness of her finger as she gently pulled his eyelid up further. Oh, no. He knew what that meant. The dreaded bright light. He muttered a denial and tried to pull away, but she wouldn't let him. And then there it was, a beacon of torture first directed into one eye and then the other. "Pupils are fine, Sir. A bit small, but that's natural considering the drug and the low light. I think..."  
  
"I _remember_!" Daniel all but shouted it. Bad idea. He squeezed his eyes closed. Head-rush.  
  
There was a moment of silence which quickly was broken by a crunching noise. The sound grew closer, louder, and Daniel heard and felt Sam and Jack draw back from him a bit just before he heard Teal'c's voice. "Daniel Jackson is awake?"  
  
He slitted his eyes open to see the big man standing behind Jack, who was still crouched at his side. He seemed to be carrying something bulky. Looked heavy, whatever it was. Jack rose as he answered Teal'c, brushing his hands off on his pants. "Yeah. He's not quite with us here, though." Daniel felt a flash of irritation. He was beginning to think it was them, not him, who was brain injured.  
  
"What is it he claims to remember, O'Neill? The information we require?"  
  
"No. We haven't asked him about that yet. He just woke up a minute ago."  
  
Sam face still hovered directly above him. She was staring at him. He stared back.  
  
"Then what is it he recalls? He sounded quite adamant."  
  
"The hell if I know. Nothing, I guess." Jack and Teal'c began to move away, their voices fading as they walked toward the fire. "We were just sitting here, and suddenly he pops up like some damned jack-in-the-box and - never mind, I'll explain that later - bangs his head on the DHD. Next thing you know he's squirreling around and..."  
  
Yup, brain damage for sure. Receptive language deficit. Mind you, in Jack's case, it wasn't a far walk - Never mind. Daniel stared at Sam. She stared at him. She suddenly narrowed her eyes leaned forward, tilting her head. He suspected his perceptual difficulties were responsible for the almost impossible angle her head ended up at. Thankfully, she straightened up again as she quietly exclaimed, "Oh! Ahh." Daniel was just thinking of adding expressive language deficits to his diagnosis when she suddenly smiled warmly at him. "Hey there. Hi, Daniel." He saw understanding light up her face.  
  
Thank goodness. "Hi."  
  
"So you _do_ remember us getting you all cleaned up." There was a faintly embarrassed look on her face. Daniel didn't know, nor really care, if it was because she had been wrong or if it was there out of some sort of misplaced empathy for him.  
  
"Yeah. And I remember it hurt." Ah. It was because she had been wrong. The embarrassment had deepened to obvious, outright chagrin at his comment. He tried to raise his hand, to reach out to her, but his arm didn't seem to want to co-operate and his hand ended up dropping to the ground at his side He felt tingly all over. Oh, no. "Sam? I feel... I, I'm having trouble..." Her body seemed to flux, wavering and sliding between light and dark and left and right. God, please. "Sam, help. I can't...." What he couldn't do was finish what he'd started to say. It was too hard. He didn't want to die. He couldn't. Not yet. Not there, not then.  
  
"It's okay, Daniel. You're okay. The SGC sent supplies after all. Food, clothing, even a generator and some fuel. They included copies of your files, too. Panter hid everything in the woods and we found it all after you fell asleep."  
  
So? So what? God, she didn't understand after all. He wasn't all right, he was - supplies? The pillow, the blanket. Supplies. His files and stuff? Oh, shit. How long had they been there? Right from the start? Fat lot of good they'd be to him now. He felt as though he'd start crying again. Unfair. It was all so fucking unfair.  
  
"There's medical supplies, Daniel. We started to get you cleaned up, but you became really restless. The Colonel wanted you to have some morphine. It worked, you settled right down, but I think I might have given you a bit too much."  
  
Daniel did as he had earlier; he screwed his eyes up, concentrated until he got it just right, and found she looked almost normal. Okay, so, would he be able to do that if his brain was being squeezed into mush? He had no idea. Maybe yes, maybe that only meant he was at the beginning instead of the middle or the end of the end. "Am I... Sam, I think I'm..." Tears stung his eyes and he lost his precious hold on his emotions. Fear and anger constricted his chest and rose into his throat. He choked it out, feeling like a pathetic wimp. "You were right. You were right... I'm... I must be..."  
  
She swooped down on him, gathering him up in her arms, her cheek cool and soft against his. He closed his eyes against the sudden, nauseating, disorientation. Her voice was in his ear, her words broken. She was upset. He had upset her. Moron. "No no no, Daniel. No, that's not it." He felt moisture on his face, felt both angered and humiliated by his weakness and grateful to her for the comfort. "I promise, Daniel. It's okay. I wasn't right, I was wrong. You're okay. It's just the morphine. I should have told you right away when you woke up." As she spoke, he heard the catch in her voice and realized the dampness on his cheek was not only his own. "That's all it is. Just the morphine. God I was so stupid to have given it to you while you weren't awake. You're all right, you are fine, it's just the drug..."  
  
He was vaguely aware of the sound of Jack and Teal'c returning and of their questioning voices. He ignored them, allowing himself the luxury of burrowing into her support, losing himself in the warmth of her arms around him, the feel of her face against his, the soft murmurs of encouragement and reassurance which flowed unceasingly into his ear. She said he was okay. She _promised_ he was okay. Right then, little else mattered.

 

* * *

  
Sam felt Daniel start to slide out her arms as he relaxed and tightened her hold on him, completely ignoring the Colonel's repeated question as to whether Daniel was all right. It was a stupid question, but there was by far something even more absurd than that here. Her. She had been so... stupid. She only now recalled the first and last time she had ever seen him on morphine, and it hadn't been a pretty sight. Dr. Fraiser had ordered special guest accommodation and an injection of painkiller for Daniel, after he'd been beaten by the Touched. It had been morphine, and a totally floppy Daniel had ended up figuratively on the infirmary ceiling, swearing the entire room had taken off on an interstellar flight without providing seatbelts. Not so figuratively, he'd been over the side-rails and on the floor within short order.  
  
Now he had woken to find himself caught in the same swirl of misperception, unable to coordinate his movements, and having no true idea of just why. Given his condition before he'd gone to sleep and her own negative and all too verbal pronouncements about his head injury, it shouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out the natural conclusion he'd likely come to. But she hadn't seen it coming. Even when his control had slipped and his distress became obvious, it had taken her far too long to catch on. She'd sat there and prattled on about the supplies. She'd been a total idiot on two counts; one for not remembering and giving him the drug while he wasn't alert enough to understand what was being done, and two, for not anticipating his reaction and reassuring him the moment he had woken.  
  
She hugged him securely, allowing her own tears to mingle with his and doing her best to make up for her earlier cruelty. Deep inside, she knew nothing would ever negate what they had said to each other, just as she knew there was an element of truth in the words they had spoken. Even in the relatively short time since they had first met, they had come to know each other all too well, and the stresses of this mission had been a catalyst not for faulty insensitivity but actually for the release of insights into one another. It was true. He was right. She had a negative, analytically pessimistic streak in her which encouraged her to not only look for, but to want to actively point out - whether that information was wanted by others or not - the ultimate downside to any situation.  
  
And maybe now was a good time for her to put to use his insight into her, to his benefit. Sam pulled back slightly from Daniel, looking at his face. His eyes were closed, his mouth drawn into a tight line which had to hurt, considering the swelling of his lower lip. He was calmer, but she wasn't altogether certain he was entirely reassured. She bought a hand up to his face and lightly tapped his cheek. "Daniel? Listen, something just occurred to me..." The moment he opened his eyes, she saw the evidence of vertigo and the instantaneous panic it evoked, in the coarse shimmy of his eyeballs, the sudden snap of his head, and barely audible gasp. She waited for a few seconds, and when Daniel's eyes focused on her face she smiled and gave it her best shot. "You know me, right, Daniel? You were right, I do tend to be mouthy about the worst of the worst." She ignored the faint look of protest on his face and it dissolved almost at once as he seemed to realize she wasn't interested in niceties. "I can be a real downer. So, it should really tell you something when I say that I'm sure - I am certain - that I was wrong. Okay?"  
  
As she spoke, O'Neill crouched by their side. He looked very confused, but there was a twinkle in his eye as he commented, "Ms. 'what-if' and Mr. 'what-for'... you two make the perfect couple."  
  
Their reward was a genuine smile from Daniel as he softly joked, "Yeah? And you being just plain old, Mr. 'what?'. You know _what_ , I think we make a good _team_."  
  
The Colonel's expression changed, darkened for a split second, and then he responded with a broad smile. "Yeah, I think so too. Well, okay, so maybe Carter still has some work to do on that..."  
  
"Oh, thank you, Sir. Okay, if the Colonel is a 'what', I'm a 'what-if', and you're a 'what-for'... then what's Teal'c?  
  
"I am a Jaffa. How are you, Daniel Jackson?"  
  
Daniel struggled in her grasp and Sam helped him to sit up. It was obvious he was extremely dizzy, but he managed to collect himself enough to locate Teal'c where he had come up on her left. Nodding at Teal'c and immediately swaying as a result, he reached out with one arm which O'Neill grabbed hold of. "Whoa. Remind me not to do that, okay? I'm okay, Teal'c. Feeling a bit weak and a lot dizzy is all."  
  
"What is it you remembered? That which we require?"  
  
A look of puzzlement passed across Daniel's face. Sam answered the question for him. "Just that we cleaned him up, Teal'c. We haven't had time to talk about anything, yet." She turned back to Daniel. "We were hoping you could tell us what Panter talked to you about. We've been dialing out to Earth every hour or so..."  
  
She was shocked by the passion with which Daniel managed to respond. She'd though him too weak, but he proved her wrong as he pushed away from her and thrust himself up onto his knees, loudly protesting. "No! No, that won't work.. You can't do that. You have to stop doing that."  
  
The Colonel caught him just as he slipped sideways. "Steady, Danny. We're just knocking on the door, that's all. We won't go through. We're hoping we're the only off-word team out of contact and Hammond will decide to send another MALP here to check out the activations..." He stared directly at her as he completed his thought, "...which he _will_ , given enough time."  
  
Sam bit her lip in concern as, if anything, Daniel's protest became even more forceful. He leaned heavily against O'Neill, gripping the older man's vest and trembling noticeably as he repeatedly shook his head. She bit harder into her lip, trying to stave off incongruous laughter as O'Neill drolly commented, "Don't do that, Daniel. You told us to remind you not to do that."  
  
Daniel ducked his head and Sam was pleased to see he was with them enough to show some amusement of his own at the plainly facetious reminder. He shook his head yet again, obviously suffering unpleasant consequences as he wobbled and tightened his grip on the Colonel's vest. His words were becoming increasingly slurred. "Yeah, right. Well, when did I ever pay attention to you? Now, if it was Teal'c or Sam..." His expression changed, grew serious. "There's no way he's sending another MALP here. You can't keep dialing Earth, Jack. "  
  
"Why?" As the word left her mouth Sam realized in the new order of things, that was the Colonel's line, not hers. With a wry grin, she amended it. "Err, I mean, what if we do?"  
  
The lift of O'Neill's eyebrow contained a definite hidden thumbs-up, but Daniel didn't seem to appreciate her attempt at levity. He stared at her for a moment as if she had sprouted another head, before turning his attention back to the Colonel. Sam felt a stab of irritation and wondered why it was only the Colonel was allowed to engage in comic relief. But the seriousness of Daniel's next words, and the difficulty with which he forced them out, wiped the feeling away. "Panter was going to tell Hammond we were all dead. That this planet is the seat of a Goa'uld threat."  
  
A heavy weight settled in Sam's chest. Panter's words came back to her. She was beginning to understand Daniel's alarm. _"Halfway decent shot, Dr. Spacemonkey. But I'm still breathing, and you know, this is going to help things. Pretty good idea."_ Oh, God. If Hammond thought they were all dead and Panter had escaped home, injured, in the midst of a firefight...  
  
"Dammit." The Colonel's voice was quiet. "What else, Daniel?"  
  
"Just..." Daniel's strength gave out on him as he tried to answer. Sam reached out to help as the Colonel slowly guided him to the ground. "Sorry. Stuff you gave me, I guess. Just that he'd tell them the enemy had all our gear and the GDOs. Oh, and that he was pretty sure they saw the glyphs for Earth as I dialed, so they know who we were." A faint grin ghosted his face as he allowed his head to rest on Sam's arm. His voice was barely a whisper as he closed his eyes. "That's just about when I died, of course."  
  
She stroked his hair. "Daniel?" He cracked his eyes open in acknowledgment, but they immediately drifted closed again. "It's okay. The General won't do anything rash. He won't risk the life of any locals just because Panter tells him they support the Goa'uld. He'll rely in the Iris to protect Earth. That's what it's for."  
  
Her understanding of their situation increased as he replied, his words slow and faint, "There are no real locals on Panter's planet. Just a bunch of imports, on dead world with a few Goa'uld ships parked right near the 'gate."  
  
Daniel was completely unresponsive as O'Neill gently unwrapped his fist from his vest. "Dammit, dammit, dammit. You're right, Carter, Hammond won't destroy a world without a lot more provocation than that. But Daniel's right too. We can't risk phoning home any more. Wouldn't do us any good anyway."  
  
He found a new salutation for himself as he stood up and dusted off his pants. "So much for Mr. 'what'. Just call me, Mr. 'ah, what the fuck'." It was pretty clear to Sam he hadn't intended it to be in the least bit funny. And it wasn't.

 

* * *

  
  
"We begin again, Daniel Jackson." Teal'c looked over his shoulder to locate the other two members of SG-1. Good. They were some distance away, Captain Carter sitting on the dais steps in the morning sunshine and O'Neill unpacking supplies, neither of them attending to where he was or what he was doing. "This time, however, I have sworn to myself and now to you, that I will not ask anything of you. Nor will I take issue with any of my friends." He placed a gentle hand on the shoulder of the sleeping man and inclined his head. "I am sorry."  
  
Satisfied on two counts - that he had admitted his culpability and sworn to support his friends in a more productive manner, and that the others were not aware of this open display of emotion - Teal'c withdrew his hand and stood. Not much could be done until Daniel Jackson once again awoke, however perhaps he could be of assistance to Captain Carter in preparing for that time. He looked at the digital video recorder he held. There was at least one way in which he knew he could help. He turned to the DHD and began taping.  
  
It didn't take long to get all of the symbols recorded, however Teal'c was only part way over to where Captain Carter sat bent over the laptop when she suddenly straightened up and excitedly announced that she had found 'them'. Her face was beaming as he joined her. "Teal'c! They're right here. It was a bit hard to find, because when the files were loaded onto the laptop somehow most of the file names got truncated... but it looks like the entire manuscript was scanned in at high resolution, and Daniel had manually entered the translation into a separate file. Look. I can pull up both files, and open them side by side."  
  
Teal'c looked over her shoulder to see what could only be the Altairian manuscript displayed on the small screen. He felt some measure of satisfaction at the sight; at least they had some portion of the work Major Panter had destroyed. The symbols from Altair on the computer would make it easier for Daniel Jackson this time around. As Carter scrolled down, Teal'c noticed some of the now almost familiar markings from the rough notes Daniel had made in the village, amongst the incomprehensible jumble of symbols on the computer screen. "I recognize some of these from the work Daniel Jackson has already done. There appear to be a vast number more symbols here than the ones he recalled."  
  
Carter looked up at him for a second before returning her attention to the screen. "Yes. He tried to remember as many as he could... but, God, look at it all. This is a much bigger document that I expected."  
  
"Will that be of assistance?" On the surface, the sheer number of symbols was confusing. It had been much easier to try to follow Daniel Jackson's progress when the comparisons and possible relationships were more limited. Teal'c was confused as to whether more was better, under these circumstances.  
  
Carter bit her lip. "Well, even though it's all pretty confusing, I'm sure more is better, under these circumstances." Teal'c hid his small smile. He was beginning to understand the Tau'ri way of thinking. A distinct challenge he was pleased he had been able to rise to meet. "The thing is, Teal'c, when he worked on the Earth address, Daniel drew on his memory for symbols that matched the ones on the walls and on the DHD... so, for those he recalled which seemed relevant, as long as he could remember the Altairian translation for those symbols he could draw some contextual relationships. But it was a real struggle. Now, with all these..." she waved a hand at the laptop, "...he can do a computer search for any Altairian symbols he suspects might be integrated with the DHD ones, and the translation is right here."  
  
In a flash, Teal'c fathomed how he could best help his friend; how he could make up for pushing Daniel so hard before. He touched Carter's arm. "Captain Carter, can you show me how to use this computer? You move the cursor by manipulating the small green button?"  
  
She smiled at him. Teal'c knew she understood perfectly, when she not only showed him how to maneuver the cursor, but began to explain how to input the DHD symbols from the new digital tape he had made, and how to perform a search for those symbols in the database of the Altairian ideographs. Her explanations were clear and concise, and within half an hour Teal'c was confident he could manage. Not once did she protest that she could do the work more efficiently than him, even though there really wasn't anything else for her to do. Teal'c thanked her appreciatively, wishing he could find a way to support her needs as she now unquestioningly supported his.

 

* * *

  
  
Daniel vaguely remembered being awake before. He remembered Sam telling him about the equipment and supplies they'd found while he was asleep. And Jack talking about dialing home again, of knocking on General Hammond's door, as he put it. Daniel was sure he had told them not to do that... hadn't he? Hadn't he?  
  
Alarmed, his eyes snapped open and he bolted upright into a sitting position. Agh. He shouldn't have done that; his head swam and his breath caught painfully in his chest. But never mind that. They shouldn't do that... they couldn't. He had to stop them. He struggled to stand up and ended up on his knees, leaning heavily against the DHD pedestal, facing the Stargate. His panic ebbed as he saw the three of them sitting on the dais steps, huddled together over what appeared to a laptop computer. Right. They'd said that. They'd told him the SGC had finally sent his stuff.  
  
Daniel looked around. Everything seemed peaceful. The planet was still here, so either he had told them what Panter had said, or he hadn't given General Hammond nearly enough credit in the morals department. Where military ethics were concerned, Daniel often found himself irretrievably lost in ambiguity, never quite knowing what was realistic to expect. Even though the iris was in place and their code would be locked out, Daniel really had no clear idea of what lengths the SGC would go to in the face a continuing threat from this world. They hadn't blown up Chulak, sure, but that was home to a thriving society full of innocent people, pawns and slaves who were in need of support and liberation, not annihilation. Panter would make it abundantly clear there was nothing to be lost here, and Daniel had no idea just how closely the lunatic would be listened to. Had Hammond agreed with the ludicrous advice, Daniel, fast asleep at the moment of Armageddon, would never have known what hit him.  
  
Sam looked up and saw him. Daniel couldn't help but notice the broad smile that spread over her face, and wondered what brought it on. Certainly, it couldn't be the sight of him; at the periphery of his mind, where he kept it firmly pushed as far from the light of day as possible, hovered a distinct memory of making a total fool of himself. Crying like a baby, allowing himself to be rocked and... despite himself, he had to smile... cradled. Okay, it must be something on the computer which she was so - Wait, his files, she must have located the Altairian manuscript. Feeling a stab of excitement, he started to disentangle his legs from the blankets someone had draped over him. He had to go over there. He'd managed to decipher the Earth glyphs with only the Altairian symbols he could remember; God, what he could do with the entire database!  
  
About ten seconds. About ten seconds was how long Daniel had to look forward to the task. As he tried to rise to his feet, he felt something in his chest seize up and there was a fierce stabbing pain which drove him back down to his knees. God, it hurt! Daniel was barely aware of the exclamation from Sam and the commotion as all three of his friends ran toward him, but he was acutely aware of the burning in his lungs and the fierce nausea. He clenched his fists over his sternum and struggled to stay calm and control his breathing, and told himself over and over that it was just a spasm... just a spasm.  
  
He felt hands supporting him. "Daniel! Jesus, what is it?"  
  
He shook his head. He couldn't talk, not quite yet; it was still hard to catch his breath. Soon, though... it was just a muscle spasm in his chest wall... it would go away in a moment and then he could reassure them. A fresh stab rocked him, and he inadvertently bit his lower lip. Immediately, Daniel could taste the blood as the split on his lip opened up again. A souvenir from Panter; one Daniel could well do without. He gagged on the blood, and spat it out.  
  
As he struggled to catch his breath, Daniel felt Sam's hand pressed against his neck and heard her quiet voice as she encouraged him. "Okay, Daniel, just slow it down. Take slow shallow breaths for now, okay? It's not serious, it just hurts. You can do it. Sir... it's 142..."  
  
Relax, just try to relax. Daniel could feel each and every one of the 142 beats per minute slamming against his sternum, pounding in his head, reverberating in his jaw. God, he really didn't need this. He put everything he had into trying to remain calm, trying to slow his breathing and relax his constricted muscles despite the pain. He didn't have time for this now, he had work to do. Despite his best efforts to stay relaxed, he felt panic well up inside. He had to start all over again - he had a whole other address to decipher and he wouldn't be able to do it if simply breathing took all his concentration.

 

* * *

  
  
Jack gave the soup simmering over the fire one more quick stir on his way by. He glanced toward the Stargate before he resumed pacing the width of the clearing. This was way past being ridiculous. Ridiculous had been twenty-two hours ago when Panter had gone through the Stargate and left them back at square one with no way to safely dial out, only this time with an even more disabled Linguist. Now, hours of work and quite literally, blood, sweat, and tears later they were well into the realm of totally and completely absurd.  
  
Blood, sweat, and... tears. Jack felt as close to tears as he'd ever been as he watched the dismal interaction taking place before him. Teal'c sat on the dais steps balancing the small computer on his lap, with Carter and Daniel on either side of him. Carter and Daniel were arguing. Again. About the same things they had been bickering over most of the day. About two things in particular... the first and most contentious of which was the amount of medication Daniel would - or, wouldn't, as the case may be - accept despite the fact he could hardly breathe, and the second being which address they were supposed to be working on.  
  
There really shouldn't be any hurry now, as they had pretty much ruled out some sort of insidious, brain-blowing, progressive trauma as being responsible for Daniel's continued symptoms. They all agreed; five days post-injury was long enough to feel pretty safe in that regard. Daniel was as lucid and awake as circumstances and his general weakness would allow for, and he wasn't nearly as irritable or borderline irrational as he had been. They had enough food and supplies to last for a couple of weeks, and the drug kit was well stocked. The problem was, even if Daniel's remaining vertigo and nausea - and resultant dehydration - could be coped with, Panter had made all too sure there was still a need for haste. The prick had badly bruised, probably broken, Daniel's sternum. God only knew what lurked under the rapidly spreading, viscious-looking bruise on his chest.  
  
Combined with the assorted problems Daniel still experienced, that pain was pretty much the last straw. Barely being able to draw enough air to support life without collapsing in agony kinda wore out a guy. Yet, the kid refused adequate doses of painkillers because he had work to do, and he had to be alert to do it. Jack cursed under his breath. This really wasn't fair. But when had Jack O'Neill ever been a believer in fairness? Life sucked. That was the first and foremost incontrovertible fact listed in the O'Neill Almanac. It had been proven countless times and only rarely, fleetingly, had its authenticity been challenged. Sara had challenged it for a while, Charlie had all but wiped acknowledgment of its existence from the pages of life... for a while. But the fine print came back. It always came back.  
  
Jack watched as Daniel, one hand pressed firmly against his chest, jabbed at the screen with an out-stretched finger while Carter shook her head in the negative. She pulled his hand away and Jack saw her indicate the bedroll, and the medical kit beside it. And saw Daniel's refusal. In a flash of insight, Jack realized Daniel was challenging the first rule of the O'Neill Almanac right now. He was saying, loud and clear, that preserving the sucks-to-high-heaven lives of his teammates was worth just about anything, that even though the current situation sucked big time didn't mean you stopped trying. Ever.  
  
Okay. So maybe it was time he stopped pacing around and started helping. So far he'd kept out of the discussion on which planet to aim for, not feeling he had anything worthwhile to contribute to that decision. But that didn't mean he should have backed off on the other problem. Striding over to the kit, Jack pulled out the insert which contained the medications and pawed through it all. He found the small ampoule he was looking for and pulled out a syringe. He'd said it before - enough was enough - and now it was time to do something about it. He snapped the ampoule open and drew up the contents.  
  
As he crouched in front of the others, Teal'c acknowledged him with a curt nod of his head and the most recent update. "We have determined Daniel Jackson's initial advice was correct, O'Neill. We may proceed more quickly if we concentrate upon P3X866, rather than Cimmeria."  
  
Oh, well, good. More quickly would be good. Carter looked over at him with a repentant smile. "I was wrong. Daniel tried to tell me he already suspected which glyphs might be Bootes and Perseus which along with the two we already know definitely gives that address the advantage but I really didn't..."  
  
She was interrupted by an exclamation from Daniel, in an all too breathless and pained voice for Jack's liking. "There! There it is! Teal'c, scroll back up, slowly... riiight... there! Okay, good, now bring up the translation file..."  
  
As Daniel and Teal'c bent over the laptop, Daniel mumbling in fits and starts interspersed with faint gasps as he read the squiggles on the screen, Jack indicated to Carter, with a slight windmilling motion of his hand, that she should finish what she had been saying. He normally wouldn't have bothered, but if Daniel could buck The Book, well, maybe Jack should try mounting a challenge of his own. Knowledge is power. Okay... just where had he heard that? Never mind. "Carter? You were saying?"  
  
She looked surprised. No, actually, she looked _astonished_ at his willingness to hear it. She glanced at Daniel uncertainly, obviously concerned about distracting him. Jack stood up and jerked his head slightly as he backed off a few paces. She followed him. "Sir?"  
  
"How's he doing, Carter?"  
  
She grimaced slightly, then shrugged. "That depends on whether you're asking about progress with the glyphs, or..."  
  
"Let's do the glyphs first, then the 'or'. You said we aren't going to Cimmeria? I thought we were going to Cimmeria."  
  
"Well, I wanted to concentrate on Cimmeria, Sir. Teal'c is safe from the Hammer, and we could use the Sagan Box to contact the SGC. But Daniel felt he had already encountered a possible solution for Perseus while he was doing the Earth glyphs. Since we already had two glyphs for each of Cimmeria and P3X866 - Eridanus and Cancer for P3X866 and Scutum and Cetus for Cimmeria - Daniel thought we'd be one ahead if we went for P3X866. He also said he was pretty sure he had stumbled onto a good lead on Bootes when we were up in the village, and that's one of the P3X866 glyphs as well."  
  
Jack was confused and slightly irritated over the suggestion she had quibbled with that, especially considering all the trouble she and Daniel had suffered through. "So? Why was there a problem? You know, Carter, you need to lighten up on him a bit. Someone just might think you don't trust him or something."  
  
It was a low blow. He could see its effect in her eyes, but he felt it was called for. She needed to give Daniel some slack. Her voice was quiet when she answered. "It's not that. It's just... well, the thought of going there..." She fidgeted, uncharacteristically showing her nervousness. "I just didn't want to ever go there again, that's all. But if it's going to get us out of here, well, I guess it's necessary." She brightened considerably, obviously with some effort. "We can dial straight out to Cimmeria from there, though. We'll only need to be there for a few minutes, that's all. Right?"  
  
Yeah, sure... right. Jack had no idea what she was going on about. One planet was as good as another if it got them off this rock sooner rather than later. He outright said so, and turned his mind to the next subject at hand. Which was the syringe burning a hole in his pocket. He didn't get long to think on it, though, as her reply filtered through.  
  
"Yes, of course, you're right Sir. It'll have to be Oannes, then."  
  
Oannes? Oannes... as in bubbling-blazing-sushi-skewered through the brain still having frigging nightmares about it all Nem-Oannes? Where the hell did she get Oannes from? His shock sent a cold chill down his body and a sour taste rocketing into his mouth. He knew his negative reaction showed when she took a half-step backward and in a small voice tentatively offered, "Uh... P3X866 is Oannes, Sir. I thought you knew that?"  
  
No, no, he hadn't known that. He had worked very hard over the last however many months to erase the image and odour of burning flesh from his conscious and subconscious mind, so why the hell would he have made a point of remembering the esoteric goddamn planet designation? Perversity? Masochism? Well, didn't this just reinforce his life-sucks rule number one? Speaking of which... Jack pulled the syringe from his pocket. "Carter, it's almost sunset. I made some soup for Daniel. Just about time to break out the MREs for the rest of us, and call it a day."  
  
She looked at the syringe. "He won't take that, whatever it is. He probably won't have much of that soup, either. He's been feeling sick again." She waved a hand in the direction of the battery lanterns, at present stowed with a large pile of gear near the DHD. "And now that we have lights, you know what he's going to want to do."  
  
"Yeah, well, he looks like he's about ready to drop. I think he can be encouraged." Jack tucked the syringe into his pocket again and turned and walked over to the dais. He crouched next to Daniel. Carter wisely didn't follow him and with a slight nod to Teal'c, Jack effectively conveyed he'd like to be alone with Daniel. Without comment, Teal'c placed the laptop on the ground next to him and stood to leave. Daniel, who had been leaning against the Jaffa, practically toppled over. The predictable complaint took the form of a glare and a low mutter which Jack was pretty sure wasn't in English. He really didn't care to hear a translation. "Hey, Daniel. Here, lean on me." He swung around and sat next to the young man, forcibly pulling Daniel over to him.  
  
"I don't need to..." Daniel pulled away, reaching for the laptop. Jack intercepted his hand, easily pulling him back, and Daniel snapped at him, "Jack! I need..." His protest was interrupted by the _need_ to catch his breath. Jack winced in sympathy as Daniel pressed on his chest and closed his eyes, gasping slightly. He turned quite green, as well.  
  
"What you don't need, Daniel, is to work yourself to the point of complete collapse. The situation has changed, remember? And what you do need, is this." He nudged Daniel with his elbow, pulling out the syringe with his other hand. Daniel opened his eyes and Jack waved the syringe in front of his face. "Don't have a fit or anything... it's just to settle your stomach. I made you some soup, and it'd be great if you could keep most of it down, okay?"  
  
Daniel stared doubtfully at him, the suspicion flowing so heavily Jack could almost see the brick wall being erected between them. Jack pulled out the proof, the empty ampoule, from his pocket and showed it to him. "See? It's compazine. A two ml. ampoule, and two mls. in the syringe." He bent his head over the tiny brown glass container. "Compazine. Prochel... no, procloper,ah, azz... oh, hell, whatever. Anti-ralph stuff."  
  
Daniel leaned forward and squinted at the ampoule, appearing to study it. Jack knew it was just for show. Without his glasses, Daniel had more of a chance of sprouting interstellar wings and flying through space back to Earth than he did of reading anything that tiny and close to him. Daniel was using the action as a means of giving himself time to think. Jack's impression that the kid was trying to figure out how to extend an olive branch and an apology was confirmed when Daniel looked up at him and with all seriousness, commented, "Shouldn't that be, Uncle Ralph?"  
  
Jack just barely managed to suppress a grin. "Yup, good old Uncle Ralph. Well-brought-up product of the modern world of medicine." He clapped Daniel lightly on the shoulder. "C'mon. Let's get at you here." He tugged at the collar of Daniel's jacket and was pleased when Daniel acceded to the point of actually helping him gain access to his upper arm. When Jack poked at him again Daniel drew his arm forward across his chest, and his deltoid muscle bunched accordingly. Jack heard him hiss slightly as he injected the medication and received a harsh glare when he pulled out the needle.  
  
"That hurt. You need to take lessons or something." Fumbling for the sleeve of his jacket, Daniel added, "If I fall asleep or start waltzing around to music only I can hear, because of this, I'm going to be the one to give them to you, too."  
  
"Oh, yeah. As if you could teach me anything, wimp-boy."  
  
"What? Oh, now you've gone and..." Daniel started to retort, Jack could almost see the rest of the words moving their way to the tip of his tongue, but suddenly he gasped and leaned against Jack. It took him a few long moments to catch his breath well enough to speak again. "Ahh, hell. Okay, if you make that 'limp-boy', I'd agree with you about now." He ducked his head and admitted in a low voice. "God. I feel so damned sick, Jack. So weak. And my head and chest hurt. But, I really don't want to stop working."  
  
"You don't need to push so hard, Daniel. We'll get home; I know you can do it. You don't have to do it all at once, though." Jack raised an eyebrow, tilting his head. "Especially since I'm told it's Oannes you're taking me to. You got something against me, Daniel?"  
  
A slight smile graced Daniel's face for a moment, but otherwise he didn't respond to the jibe. "No, you don't understand. I'm close to confirming Bootes, I think. I'm afraid if I stop now I'll lose the thread and have to start all over." He stopped, struggled to breathe, and cast an imploring look at Jack. "Look, Jack, it's all deductive logic based on interpretation, and while the files and the computer are invaluable, basically they're just a listing, not a fundamental frame of reference. The real frame of reference is in here..." Daniel tapped on his head and then made a motion toward his eyes with two fingers, "...and here."  
  
In reply, Jack bent over, picked up the laptop, and carefully placed it on Daniel's lap. "Do you need Teal'c to hold you up?"  
  
Daniel smiled gratefully. "Well, I need him, but not just for that. He's been really helpful, Jack. You know, he has an incredible visual imagination."  
  
Oh yeah? Who'd've of thunk it? Giving Daniel his best skeptical look, at which the young man just shook his head slightly, Jack called over to Teal'c before advising Daniel, "We'll give that shot about fifteen minutes to get working and then I'm going to drag you over for dinner. Which you will eat, Daniel. And after that, you're going to lounge around the fire with us and give yourself half a chance of keeping it down. Got it?" Teal'c settled in on the other side of Daniel. "Hey, Teal'c. He's got twenty minutes, then it's quitting time." He quickly raised an index finger to stave off the protest he saw forming on Daniel's face and, without another word, pushed himself to his feet. There wasn't anything left to say, and anyway, perhaps at the considerable dose he'd give Daniel, the compazine just might exert enough of a light sedative effect to mellow the kid out a little.  
  
Besides, there was always Plan B. Actually, it was part two of Plan A, and it was time to put it into effect. Crossing over to the med kit, Jack snuck a glance over his shoulder back toward the Stargate. Thankfully, Daniel was intent on the laptop and not looking his way at all. He stayed there for some time, watching as Teal'c supported Daniel both physically and intellectually. He remembered the beginning of it all, the abduction of Sha're and Teal'c's defection. Yeah. Who'd of thunk it, indeed. He picked up the kit and took the whole thing to the far side of the camp fire where Carter sat, morosely slopping the contents of several MRE packages into a pot.  
  
She made a face as she looked up at him. "Well, I didn't touch the soup powder. We should leave as much of that as possible for Daniel; there's no way he'll be able to eat the MREs. So, for entrees, we have a choice of beef stew, parmesan chicken, or spaghetti with meatballs. I picked the beef stew. I figured I'd just put a few of them into a pot and heat it all up at once."  
  
He settled down next to her. "That the one that comes with the little fruit side dish? And the crackers and strawberry jam?"  
  
She gave him a tolerant look. "They all have the crackers and jam, Sir. You know that. But yes, that's the one that comes with the fruit."  
  
"Sweet." He rummaged in the med kit, pulling out several different blister packs. "So, what do you think, Carter? We could go with the Tylenol 3's, or maybe with the demerol tablets, or..." He dug deeper, pulled out another one and turned it sideways and back again, peering at the label. "What the hell is lor-az-e-pam...?"  
  
"Oh. That's not a painkiller, Sir. It's for anxiety, kind of a mild sedative. It's ativan."  
  
"Ativan? Okay, I know that one. So is this the kind you stick under your tongue, or is it..." Finding the correct information imprinted on the foil package, Jack held up the pack for her to see. As if she wasn't already looking. He stripped off his jacket and laid it beside him on the rock he was sitting on. "Sweeter than sweet. These are the ones you gotta swallow." Carter frowned, obviously not quite understanding why it would make any difference.  
  
Feeling pleased at how things were working out, he pushed two of the small pills through the blister foil and traded the package for the one with the demerol tablets. Checking the dose per tablet, a measly 50 mgs., he took three of them and, along with the ativan, placed them on top of his jacket. A few quick grinds and turns of the butt end of the handle of his brand new knife, and all five tablets ended up as a coarse powder.  
  
Carter's eyes widened, understanding beginning to register on her face. He carefully scooped up the powder, and with great satisfaction and a flourish of his hand added the crushed drugs to the pot of soup which now sat off to one side. The few larger chunks made satisfying little dents in the surface skim which had formed on Daniel's dinner.  
  
"Sir! I don't think..."  
  
He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "Leave it alone, Carter. Daniel took the compazine, and I want to be sure it has a chance to do its job. He needs fluids, and a good night's sleep." He carefully stirred the soup, watching the lines formed by the powdered medication swirl and blend with the thick liquid. He moved the pot further away from the fire. He wanted the meds dissolved in the tepid soup, not cooked any more than the heat of the soup already would do.  
  
A mixture of alarm and reproach showed in her face and tinged her voice. "Well, yes, of course. I agree... but to add _all that_ in the soup like that, it's not..."  
  
His temper flared at the assumed suggestion he was taking a risk with the medications, taking a risk with Daniel's condition. He wouldn't do that. "You were the one who convinced us there was no risk, Carter, that his head was okay. _You_ said the pain killers are okay. _You_ just said it's a _mild_ sedative."  
  
"Well, yes, of course... but that's not what..."  
  
Jack recognized the sudden death of his optimism for the coming night was more because of the situation than it was her comment. He was angrier with their predicament - with both the necessity of this and his own willingness to be this underhanded - than he was with her. All the same, he couldn't seem to hold back on expressing the feelings her shortsighted criticism unleashed. "What? I'm not a complete moron, you know. You think I really expect him to eat all that? Shit, Carter, we'll be damned lucky if he actually gets half what I put in there. Even if he did get it all, it's probably not enough! I don't know about you, but I'm tired of seeing pain." He turned his back to her, stirring the mixture all the more vigourously. "I'm tired of this whole thing. Go tell them to get over here. It's time to quit for the day."  
  
He heard her get up and begin to move away. His back to her, he couldn't see her face, but he could hear the gently chiding tone of voice when she spoke as she left. "Yes, Sir. I understand. It's just that... well, I had been kind of hoping to have his leftovers."  
  
Oh. Looking at the pot which contained the unmentionable horror the military misleadingly labeled as beef stew, he felt somewhat stupid. He'd completely overlooked that possibility.

 

* * *

 

Continued in Chapter 3


	3. Chapter 3

****

 

 

**Part 7**

 

Oh, no. It was getting bad again. Oh, please, no.  
  
Covering his face with his forearm, Daniel lay in the moonlit semi-dark and tried to swallow the sounds of pain and frustration which rose in his throat. They escaped anyway; gasps and groans he was totally helpless to control. He moved his head slightly, seeking to burrow his mouth into the crook of his elbow and muffle the noise, and as he did so, renewed vertigo hit like a freight train. Oh God.  
  
He knew all too well the nausea was just an instant away. Every time his world had tipped in the slightest over the last six days, his stomach had reliably, relentlessly, responded. It would be no different now; yet again, he'd end up on his hands and knees hurling like a pro. Except it would _hurt_ a whole lot more this time. He'd felt the weird snapping sensation in his chest every time he took any appreciably deep breath - it had been there ever since Panter had slammed him up against the boulder - and it got much worse when he was sick. Every time he retched or threw up the faint 'snap' of breathing changed into something much worse, catching his entire chest in a fiery grip which robbed him of both breath and any semblance of composure. It was coming now, he could feel it starting. He'd done his best, he really had. This wasn't fair. This _sucked_.  
  
He had been oh so very annoyed over the deception of the previous night. They had spiked his soup. He should have known, but he'd thought the very faint bitter taste was due to his abused mouth - he'd been chowing down on acid and bile and blood a bit too often to be in any way objective about whether the chicken soup tasted as chicken soup should taste. He would have giggled at the thought it may have been macaroni and cheese for all he knew, except that although the disconnected part of his brain worked well enough to supply that particular flashback, the part which was very much connected to the rest of him was far too miserable to indulge in such comfort.  
  
He had tried, really tried, to help himself. Ever since the day following his alarmingly untenable blow-up with Sam, he'd made a point of at least trying to drink and eat whatever they had given him, even when it threatened to come right back up in the next moment. It had helped. He knew he'd never have been able to decipher the Earth glyphs if he had not have made that effort, if he'd allowed himself to sink even deeper into the spiral of nausea, dehydration, weakness, dizziness and nausea-dehydration-weakness-dizziness-nausea. He had done it, and he'd made it down the path to the Stargate, and he'd stood there and dialed... and... oh well. But he'd still kept trying, right on up through the previous day, throughout which he'd pretended he didn't notice Jack sneaking the tiny white pills into the drinks he brought Daniel at regular intervals. Daniel figured it was the least he could do for Jack; the man had to have something to feel a sense of control over, after all.  
  
Shit. Party time. The whirling increased in severity and with it, his stomach contracted and his throat closed up. A rush of heat in his chest and numbing cold in his arms and legs preceded the full impact of the nausea by a scant few seconds. Sickness overwhelmed his senses, filled his body and his mind to the extent he was aware of nothing other than the intense pain in his chest and the powerful need to bring up anything and everything inside him. Instinct took over as he rolled onto his side and struggled to get up onto his hands and knees, to move away from the sleeping area and find a private place in which to puke up whole organ systems unobserved. But the dizzying, rapid revolving of all that he was and where he was defeated him, and he ended up splayed out face first in the dirt beside the sleeping bag he'd been laying on top of.  
  
He lay there for a few moments, keeping as still as possible, and the worst of it ebbed slightly... just enough for cognitive awareness of the whole of it to snap back into place. Torturous vertigo which made control of his trembling body all but impossible. Pressure in his head, a fullness accentuated by the harsh pounding in his temples. An almost unbearable snap-crackle-pop-catch in the centre of his chest, and overwhelming nausea which left him desperate for some sort of release. He prayed, urgently pleaded for it to happen, for the ability to forcefully puke his guts out. Or anything else. He didn't care what came up, it could be his gonads for all he cared. Just... something to put an end to this.  
  
Only he knew it wouldn't put an end to it. He'd spasm and jerk and puke up whatever was in his stomach, he'd silently scream with the pain in his chest, and then his traitorous body would search further afield, dragging his intestines like a dredge would a river bottom. Daniel groaned, swallowed against the heaviness in his throat, and redoubled his efforts to move. To sick-up all over himself where the others were sleeping, where they rested and ate and stored their supplies, would be worse than rude and disgusting. It would be thoroughly humiliating.  
  
It wasn't easy going, pushing with legs he could barely feel existed and pulling himself along while trying to keep one hand firmly clamped over his mouth in an inept attempt to delay the inevitable. He wasn't sure how far he'd traveled, scrabbling along half on his knees and half on his belly, before he felt an arm around his waist and a hand on his shoulder. When he realized whose arms supported him, he wasn't sure if he wanted to accept the assistance. Jack. Sneaky Jack, who had stolen a whole half-day from him in the misguided belief it was going to actually _help_ him. It wasn't. It hadn't. Look at him now... he'd had the great sleep and the short day, and he'd taken the oral compazine before dinner, of his own accord this time around. And here he was. A half-day's worth of work gone, and nothing to show for it except the inevitable worsening of his health.  
  
Jack's arm tightened around Daniel's waist and it was more than he could handle. He lost the battle, the viscious intensity of the nausea and the pressure around his middle forcing the issue. He retched. Somewhere amid the agony in his chest he felt his toenails working their way up through the spasms and constrictions, riding a one-way, reverse direction wave of peristalsis that he both feared and welcomed.  
  
Only one-way travel allowed. The wrong way, but who cared. Dredge it, suck it up, spit it out. Like sucking scum up off a river bottom and ejecting it out into a stinking, slimy... Agh. God. Wait... Oh, God! In the middle of a particularly violent retch, Daniel suddenly visualized the third glyph, the gracefully curved tube and tilted triangle which formed Cra, Corona Australis. Insert here, please. In this end, around the curve, out the other. A perfect one-way U-turn. Then he puked, with a great, agonizing heave which darkened his vision and sent a shaft of pain through his chest the likes of which he doubted he'd survive. And similtaneous with delivering the goods, he understood just where to start in deciphering Cra.

 

* * *

  
  
What a difference a day makes. Actually, a day and a half. Jack glanced at his watch; thirty-three hours to be exact.. What a goddamn, frigging, dismal difference. Thirty-three hours ago, Daniel had downed most of a pot of drugged soup, had kept it down, and had ended up blessedly down for the count for the next fourteen hours. He'd had a decent high-energy fluid brunch when he'd woken, courtesy of Carter, Carnation, and the US Military. He'd then spent the next eight hours glaring accusingly at them and suspiciously refusing almost everything they'd brought him to drink throughout the day unless he himself had observed them fetch it. Of course, Jack could be oh so very sneaky when he wanted to and due to his great skill at carrying out covert action, Daniel had unknowingly received a decent amount of demerol throughout the day, not to mention the decent dose he'd downed with his chicken-a-la-surprise soup at dinner.  
  
But that was then, and this was now. Jack lay on his bedroll staring up at the stars, listening to the almost frantic sounds of distress coming from the direction of the DHD. He'd not been quite fully awake when he'd heard the beginnings of it - the dragging, scrabbling noises which he only realized was Daniel hauling himself away from them when he'd turned over and found himself confused at the sight of the empty sleeping bag beside him. He was thoroughly awake now, though. And just as thoroughly helpless to do anything about this turn of events.  
  
He had peered across the dimly moonlit clearing to see the kid crawling his way over there - funny how Daniel instinctively gravitated toward the DHD or the Stargate when he was suffering. It had happened before, both on and off-world, but until now Jack had never really given any thought to it. It was almost as if Daniel unconsciously found some sort of solace there. Or maybe not. Maybe it was just the opposite... like desperately trying to find a way home, or to escape whatever or wherever the torture of the day was, or something?  
  
Whichever, Jack wasn't welcome to join Daniel there. He never had been - no one had, really - and this time was no different. He had tried. He'd helped him get there, but had been thoroughly rejected when it came to dealing with the messy stuff. That was probably for the best, given the disturbing images and odours, flashbacks, which ran through Jack's mind. But still , Daniel couldn't be left alone like that. He'd had to resort to ordering Teal'c to ignore Daniel's pleas and angry attacks of invective, and stay there with him doing what Jack couldn't bring himself to do. To watch the suffering. The compazine and the morphine were in and all of what Daniel had eaten earlier was well and truly out, along with some other stuff which had never seen the light of day, nor ever should to begin with. All there was left to do now, was wait.  
  
Despite the late start, work on the glyphs had literally raced along the previous day. According to Daniel, they now had the first, second, and fourth symbols for Oannes sorted out, the sixth was done and waiting for one last final confirmation check, and the fifth was Cancer, which they had already proven through the Earth address. One glyph to authenticate, which Daniel had felt wasn't going to be a problem, and one more to figure out. They were short the third symbol, and today was supposed to be the day they would nail that sucker and test out the full address on the DHD. Supposed to be. Before this happened. Now, who knew what the day would bring.  
  
Lost in his thoughts, Jack was startled when Carter slumped down to sit next to him, drawing her legs up and resting her forehead on her knees. She jerked slightly when a particularly loud retch came from across the clearing. "Teal'c said he thinks the drugs are starting to work." Her muffled voice cleared, becoming more audible, as she raised her head. "Doesn't sound like it to me." There was a worried frown on her face.  
  
No, it didn't sound that way to Jack, either. It had been twenty minutes since Carter had given the injections and then been rudely ejected from the area. Over that time there had been short periods of relative silence, but by and large... not. The gagging, groaning, and gasping had been more or less constant companions to the sound of the wind in the trees and the distant rush and swirl of flowing water in the creek. The breeze carried a familiar, faintly mulchy, mossy green odour. Gee, such an idyllic setting. Jack gazed up at the stars, just beginning to fade as dawn approached, and really, sincerely, deeply wanted to goddamn fucking _go home_.  
  
"Sir, I think we have a problem."  
  
Jack almost bolted upright to smack her a good one. Well, Duh. He slowly turned his head and stared at her, the sarcasm and anger welling up and just about to spill over when he saw the expression on her face. Her eyes were wide and serious, full of intense worry. He was surprised to see uncertainty there as well. This trip was wreaking havoc with his Captain's usual strong demeanor, that was for sure. He tempered his response accordingly, limiting it to as bland as possible a, "Ya think?"  
  
She looked straight at him, gnawing her lower lip, her forehead creased in an ever-deepening frown. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again before anything came out. Okay, so obviously she meant they had yet _another_ problem, a new one he wasn't already aware of, and she was having trouble figuring out how to tell him about it. One of the louder moans of distress floated across to them, and he amended his thought to specifically include problems in addition to the one he was so unwillingly listening to right then. He sat up, rested his forearms on his knees and gave her the old C.O. stare, the one which all non-coms and junior officers instantly recognized as meaning they'd be in deep shit if they didn't come up with something really good, really quick.  
  
It worked. She straightened noticeably, as if some instinct told her body that even under the present circumstances the correct response to 'the look' still involved implementing the ramrod, and admitted, "About finishing the glyphs today, Sir... you won't like this much. It turns out Daniel has been keeping something from us."  
  
The groan which escaped his mouth was but a shadow of the one which swelled inside him, filling his chest with cold dread. He didn't think he wanted to hear this. Whatever it was, she had to be wrong. Daniel wouldn't do that. He wanted to get home as much as the rest of them. He was working hard on the glyphs; he'd said there was just one more to decipher and once that was done, they'd test the address. Daniel seemed pretty sure it would work. He'd said he knew how to do this, and Jack believed him. There was no problem, because Daniel knew what he was doing.  
  
He scrubbed his hands across his face. Even though he knew she was wrong, he had to ask anyway. Just in case. "He wouldn't keep anything from us, Carter. He knows how to do this, and he wants to get home as much as we do." There. He'd asked. End of subject.  
  
"No, I know that, Sir. I apologize, I think I misled you. It's not specifically about doing the glyphs themselves. It's about... _Daniel_ doing the glyphs."  
  
Ah, hell. Damn, damn, damn. Hadn't he said, a few times, enough was enough? He tilted his head right back and stared accusingly into the dawn sky, daring the non-existent gods of the universe to throw yet another trauma in his face when he'd already repeatedly said it and done everything he could possibly have done about it - enough was enough. He forced out the question, croaking slightly due to the hyperextension of his neck. "What now?"  
  
"He just admitted to Teal'c, that when Panter threw him against the boulder... well, he just told Teal'c that since then, he's had a snapping sensation in his chest."  
  
So? He brought his head back down, wincing as his neck cracked slightly, and stared at her. "We already suspected there was something more than just a bruise under that bruise. So, sounds like he did fracture his sternum. That's not news, Carter."  
  
She shifted uncomfortably, and repositioned herself to fully face him. "No, that's not what it is. If his sternum is fractured, which we really have no way of confirming, it'd likely be a very stable break or he would have been in severe trouble long before now. It was pretty solid when we checked it. In any case, I don't think a sternal injury would account for him feeling that sensation with breathing, Sir. There has to be something else... but that's not the point, Colonel."  
  
Jack cast a belligerent glance at the sky, which was lightening considerably as dawn entered full swing. No one up there was listening to him; how many times did a guy have to say enough? "It's not? Then what is the point, Captain?"  
  
"The point is, with all this..." She waved a hand toward the DHD where the only sound to be heard was the faint rumble of Teal'c's low voice, "...well, from what Teal'c has said, it looks like something's really snapped now. The pain is much worse even with the morphine. We have to check him out, Sir, but Teal'c thinks he's beyond the help the pills can give him. And we know Daniel doesn't function very well on the injectable pain killer we have on hand." She stared at him with solemn, wide eyes. "Sir, if Teal'c is right..."  
  
Jack filled in the rest of the sentence, brusquely. "If he's right, Daniel may not be able to do any more than he already has... which means because the rest of us don't even know where to start with this stuff, he'll be just the first of us to die here, Carter." Angry beyond measure, he climbed to his feet and glared down at her. "But that's not going to happen. You got that?"  
  
Her answer was a bare whisper. "We may not have any control over that, Sir."  
  
She was wrong. The only control you lose is what you surrender. Jack detoured to grab an extra blanket and pillow from the stack of supplies and then made a beeline for the DHD. It had been more or less silent there for the last five minutes; with any luck, the shots had fully kicked in and Daniel would be able to tolerate some gentle poking and probing. Somehow, this was going to work out. It had to.

 

* * *

  
  
Well, it wasn't exactly working out the way Jack had hoped, but it wasn't a total disaster... yet... either. Daniel had restlessly slept until mid-morning, and awoken to more dizziness, pain, and the remnants of disconnectedness caused by the morphine. He'd accepted compazine, but refused to eat or drink anything. Jack knew that was out of fear of a return of the nausea Daniel had suffered through in the pre-dawn and early morning hours. Teal'c had settled down next to him on the ground and they had tried to do some work, but Daniel's concentration was sorely lacking.  
  
They knew the morphine was a no go if they wanted to get off the planet so they'd tried loading on the oral stuff, but the Tylenol 3's were hopelessly inadequate. Teal'c had just given Daniel some more pills and the last of the compazine, and now, late in the afternoon, Jack sat there staring at a med kit which contained only one more dose of demerol, at a complete loss as to what to do. He sorely regretted the use of the pills throughout the previous day and night, during the time that Daniel was eating and drinking. They should have gone with double doses of Tylenol 3's.  
  
Jack crouched next to where Daniel sat propped up against the large boulder and purposely avoided looking at the rough upper surface of the rock upon which their hopes of getting off this planet had all but died. He was certain if he saw the exact spot where Daniel had been forcefully pressed against it, he just might go totally stark raving lunatic nuts and try to reduce the boulder to crumbs with his fingernails and teeth. That would be unseemly; his dignity was at stake, so he carefully concentrated only upon his reason for being there.  
  
Leaning back against the pillow Carter had placed at his upper back, Daniel sat with his eyes closed, and one hand clamped in a fist on the centre of his chest. The effort being put into remaining quiet and under control was readily visible in the alternating tension and forced relaxation of the muscles in his jaw and the accompanying ebb and flow of the lines furrowed into his forehead. The abandoned computer sat on the ground next to him, the screen blank and dark, the power-down feature having activated.  
  
Jack reached out to turn off the power but stopped at the sight of Daniel's other hand reaching out, blindly groping, and the sound of Daniel's voice. "No. Don't." The words came out as breathless groans. Daniel opened his eyes, not moving his head, as his hand found its mark. "Please. Leave it on."  
  
Jack covered Daniel's hand with his own, where it rested on his forearm. Cold. His hand was cold, and trembling. "Daniel, it's just eating up the battery. We can always power it up again later. There's lots of time."  
  
A low noise Jack took to be a possible cynical laugh came from Daniel. "No, Jack. It can't be... later." The young man rolled his head against the rock behind him to bring his gaze around to Jack. The action was followed immediately by a deep moan and Daniel squeezed his eyes shut. Jack gripped his hand tighter, and felt a faint increase in Daniel's own grip in response. "I'm okay. Just dizzy." There was a pause, and Daniel opened his eyes once again, looked straight into Jack's face, and pretty near stole Jack's breath away with the depth of sorrow in his voice. "Jack. God. I am so sorry."  
  
It was all right. Wait, no. No, it wasn't. But it wasn't Daniel's fault and he was suffering enough as it was. "Hey, it's okay. Just a minor bump in the road. We'll still get there. " Jack knew he was on the wrong track when Daniel's throat constricted visibly and he shook his head in mute rejection of the all too obvious platitude. Try something else. "Hey, c'mon, Daniel. Anything I can do for you? Uncork the wine, peel you a grape, bring on the dancing girls... anything?"  
  
He wasn't surprised at the response. "Yeah. Computer. And, I need Teal'c back."  
  
"Teal'c just left with Carter. They're out gathering firewood. Daniel, I'm not going to give you the computer. You're in no shape to be trusted with valuable equipment."  
  
This time the noise was recognizable as a short laugh, and not at all cynical. It was more like a snort than a real laugh, but hey, Jack wasn't about to be picky. "Oh? So that one you liked, eh? Nix on the dancing girls, but that lame piece of..."  
  
"What... what are they wearing?"  
  
"What would you like them to wear? Nothing could be arranged."  
  
The corners of Daniel's eyes crinkled slightly and his mouth curled into a slight smile. "Not gonna let you off so easy. No work in arranging nothing." He squinted his eyes in mock concentration, gasping slightly, whether due to pain or dizziness Jack wasn't quite sure. "Okay. I want... I want red g-strings, v-violet tassels and gold tiaras. Oh... and, uh, thigh high bl-black leather boots."  
  
Jack grinned. "Well, I'd date you."  
  
"Wine and dine?"  
  
"Sure. And my place afterwards."  
  
Jack caught Daniel by the shoulders as the beginnings of a hearty laugh transmuted into a cry of pain and he collapsed forward, pulling at and twisting the front of his t-shirt. Jack slid right up next to him and hugged Daniel's body against his own, trying to help him ride out the spasms caused by the attempt at laughter. "Okay, okay... sorry. Shhh, try to relax. Guess that wasn't such a good idea."  
  
Through short, grunting expirations, Daniel managed to force out, "Oh, sure. Back out now. Cheapskate. You just wanted... to see... the tassels."  
  
It was Jack's turn to laugh. "Daniel, your tassels are no different from my own. Now, if it was Carter we were talking about, that'd be..."  
  
"Strange and... sick." Daniel peered at him, shaking his head slightly. "Scary."  
  
Speaking of sick - Jack reached behind Daniel and pulled the pillow back into place against the boulder, gently settling Daniel back against it. He was pleased to see the pained expression on Daniel's face had lightened, and his breathing seemed easier. "Those pills Teal'c gave you should be kicking in by now."  
  
Better able to suck air and talk at the same time, Daniel smiled slightly and nodded. "Yeah. Except for you making me laugh, I'm in tip top shape." His face grew more serious. "Jack, this can't wait until later. There may not be a chance to follow this one through, later."  
  
"Daniel..." Jack was only too well aware of the harshness which entered his voice.  
  
"No." Daniel raised a hand, trying for the familiar wait-a-minute finger wag, but wasn't able to pull it off. His finger wavered uncertainly, and as his arm did a quick-fade he allowed his hand to drop back into his lap. He stared at it, and frowned. "That didn't turn out so good."  
  
Jack felt a very familiar mixture of irritation and fondness ping in his chest. Daniel may have lost control over the efficient use of his index finger, but he still hadn't lost his touch. "Okay. Okay. I know I'm gonna regret asking, but what do you mean?"  
  
"I think I know where to go with this. But like I said before, it's deductive. Have to follow a train of thought, a thread. If I let it go now, I don't know if I'll be able to... to, pick it back up." He stared at his hand again, a deep frown creasing his forehead, and whispered in a voice so quiet Jack had to lean forward to hear him, "Oh my God. A pointer. Like my finger. Not a specific direction of travel, but an indicator. Teal'c didn't think it was going anywhere... but it was. It is."  
  
Suddenly Daniel's head snapped up. Jack reached out to support him as the abrupt movement set off a new round of whatever-the-hell ailed the kid and Daniel let out a low cry and slumped to one side, reaching up to hold his head. Jack considered paying another visit to the med kit, but he wasn't quite sure what to look for. "What? What's with your head... dizzy again?"  
  
"Still. But never mind that." Daniel waved a shaking hand at him. "Jack! I just realized... Teal'c thought it was a dead end... but he couldn't find the proper ideographs because, because - I need the computer. I have to see the computer..." Trying to reach out for the laptop, the obvious dizziness got the better of Daniel and he sagged back against the rock for a moment, grimacing, his hands twitching. Even before Jack could recognize signs of an impending flurry of activity, Daniel tried again, throwing himself forward to land on his hands and knees and scrabbling to grab the computer before he lost the ability to hold himself up.  
  
Jack's better judgment told him to dump the kid with a well-placed swipe to his knees, right then and there. To lay Daniel down and sit on him either until the meds kicked in fully or he gave up on this foolishness. But his instincts hollered at him to do just the opposite. With a huge sigh, he gave in and forcefully grabbed Daniel around the waist, up-ending him back onto his butt. "I'll get it. Knock it off, before you do more damage to yourself. I'll get it." Pinning Daniel's shoulder to the rock with one hand, he retrieved the laptop with the other. Daniel reached out for it, but Jack pulled it out of his grasp. "No. I'll take it. You can tell me what file to pull up."  
  
"No, no... I thought it was... it, it, it was a directional ideograph I needed, but I think I refined it too far. I have to see the..."  
  
Jack didn't even try to moderate his voice. His annoyance came through loud and clear. "No, Daniel. You just sit there and do the thinking part. Dammit, this is ridiculous. You're so dizzy you can't even see straight anyway." At the desperate look on Daniel's face, he softened his tone. "I'll help you as much as I can. Explain to me what you're doing, bounce the ideas off me, let me be your eyes, okay? Just trust me... tell me what to look for."  
  
Daniel's frustration was clear. "It won't work that way. You won't understand. I have to see the symbols, to try to recognize..."  
  
"Well, that's the only way we're going to do this, Daniel. It's me, or nothing. Look, you said it yourself, later might not work. You said you need to concentrate, to follow your train of thought. If you're not even capable of turning your head without falling over, how is trying to manipulate the computer going to help you do that?" Jack knew it would be a low blow, but he needed to impress upon Daniel that he wasn't capable of doing this on his own. "You don't even know what end is up or down right now, Daniel. What if you do it all wrong? If you push yourself past the point of barely coping and it turns out it's all wrong, are you going to be able to start again later?"  
  
All Daniel's agitated efforts ceased abruptly, and he ducked his head. When he brought his face up, there were wet trails down both cheeks. "Jack. I feel like shit. I've tried... for days and days, I've really tried. But, there's something bad in my chest and my head still isn't right. I don't know if I can... if I can hang on much longer." His voice faltered at the end.  
  
Jack sat in silence, struggling to control the urge to stand up and scream violent curses at the heavens. He wanted to set fire to the O'Neill Almanac, to forever rid the universe of the fine print which, once again, had come back with a vengeance. He wanted to reach out and tell Daniel he knew he could do it, that he knew he wouldn't get it wrong, that if Daniel felt like giving up now, it was all Jack's fault and Daniel should just ignore him. He even opened his mouth to do it, but in the end, he couldn't.  
  
But then, it became clear he didn't even need to try. As Daniel tipped his chin up higher and regained control over his voice, Jack felt awed by his resilience. "I don't have much left in me, Jack. If I can't do this now, today, we might all die here. I certainly will. I don't need you to tell me what's at stake if I screw it up. I don't need you to tell me I can't do this." Stopping to catch his breath, Daniel turned his head, stared right at Jack. Slight oscillations of his eyes told of lightheadedness, the lines on his forehead and around his mouth told of pain. "I... I need you to tell me, I _can_. I'm on the right track here, Jack."  
  
As much as Jack respected - hell, admired - Daniel's tenacity, it would do neither of them any good for him to patronize the kid. "Maybe you are on the right track, I don't know. How would I? You're refusing to share it with me. The one thing I know for sure is there's no way you can do it alone. If you're going to get us out of here, you're going to have to find a way for me to help you."  
  
He leaned forward and place a hand on the side of Daniel's neck, determined they would figure out a way to do this together. "Look, it seems those pills are doing their stuff. You're breathing better - the pain is less? Right. So let's take advantage of it while we can." Lightly, he clapped Daniel's neck with his hand and then withdrew it to flip the laptop around so he could get at the keyboard. "Explain it to me. Tell me what to do to help, and let's try to get off this goddamned planet."  
  
Daniel stared at him for a moment, then leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and capitulated. "You need to open both the manuscript and the translation file. Translation file in front as the active window. Use the 'find' command..."  
  
"Wait. Hang on. It's just waking up. Okay, Teal'c left both files open. 'Find' is in the edit menu, right?"  
  
"Yeah. Need to run a search for whatever words I tell you. We have to do them one at a time. If it's there, you need to use the cross-link to locate the ideographs for that word in the manuscript, and... ah, wait, catch my breath, hang on... then carefully draw them on a piece of paper." Daniel paused for a second, and grimaced as he tried to take a deep breath. "We'll try 'point' and 'pointer' first, although I don't think they're going to be there. Then we'll try 'indicate' and 'indicator ', and I want to try the root and reasonable elaborations of 'directive' as well, to start."  
  
Jack wondered why the paper was necessary, but really didn't want to ask. Instead he simply nodded. Daniel clearly recognized his confusion, though, because the explanation came anyway. "All of the DHD alterations we've deciphered so far have expressed complex ideas. The language we're dealing with is both ideographic and syllabic. There's probably more than one symbol associated with each word I want to look for, and there's likely to be more than one Altarian symbol incorporated into each glyph."  
  
"Ah. So if we copy all of the ones we're interested in down on paper, we can mix and match, looking for a combination that's the same as one of the altered DHD symbols." Jack puffed his chest out with pride. He'd be a bona fide linguistic expert in no time, at the rate he was catching on.  
  
Daniel laughed, then immediately cried out in distress and bent forward, clutching his chest. The words coming out in strained gasps, he quite efficiently dashed Jack's newfound confidence. "No. It's not... that simple. If we did it that way, we'd... we'd be dealing with, uhm, trying to combine at least twenty symbols by the time we've done the searches, to find a match to one of the, the twenty-nine glyphs we still haven't identified. And we have to factor in the shape of the original DHD glyph as well. That way's impossible."  
  
Oh. Jack wasn't sure if he should feel sheepish or disturbed. "So, okay, we don't do it that way. Let's just do a few words at a time, then." Oh, wait, no. Stupid. Jack didn't need the raised eyebrows from Daniel to tell him he had just pulled a boner. "Ah, right. Then we'll run the risk of missing the right combination." Typing in the first word and initiating the search, completely perplexed, he asked, "So, what the hell do we do with the symbols we get from the searches?"  
  
"We follow the thread. If I'm on the right track to begin with and the manuscript contains what we need, we'll figure it out. We compare the symbols we find with the original glyph we're looking for, and manipulate combinations according to the ideas they represent. We need to find conceptual, visual images that might be consistent with Altarian-based cultural and astronomical interpretations of the original DHD glyphs. _Then_ we try to do the matching. "  
  
Oh, Jesus. Okay, not sheepish. Alarmed; definitely disturbed. Jack knew Daniel had said the process was both complex and interpretive, but oh crap, he'd had _no frigging idea_ \- he shook his head rapidly to try to clear it. All that did was jar his eyeballs. He glanced over at Daniel, relieved to see he still had his eyes closed. Jack really didn't want him to see the grave doubts he knew he couldn't entirely hide. "Uh, Daniel? I have all the faith in the world in you, but I don't think it's going to be a _we_ kind of thing. You know me, the best conceptualizing visualizing thing I could probably come up with is to just sit here and dream of tassels and tiaras. I'd just be riding on your coat-tails. You sure there isn't an easier way?"  
  
Daniel opened his eyes and gave him a weak version of what Jack thought was probably intended as a playful grin. Between the kid's discomfort and dizziness, though, it came off as a cross between a leer and a grimace. Jack didn't mind, because the words which accompanied the look more than made up for that.  
  
"S'okay, Jack. I promise, you help me get through the translation part, and I can handle the application. You can catch a ride on my tassels any time."

 

* * *

  
  
"Carter, you about all set?"  
  
Turning to look over her shoulder at the sound of the Colonel's voice, Sam watched him survey the Stargate clearing. She followed suit, taking what she hoped would be her last long look at this planet. Or, at least, at what she could see of it outside the glow of the lanterns. With the moon and stars hidden behind thick clouds which threatened rain, the battery lamps were all they had; their light spilled out in bright arcs which fell victim to the dark shadows all too soon and all too suddenly. The surrounding darkness outside the reach of the lights seemed oppressively impenetrable.  
  
She stood at the DHD, holding the piece of paper with the six glyphs drawn on it, Teal'c standing to her right. The computer, Daniel's files and texts, and the med kit were packed up with the few other essentials they'd decided should be taken back with them. It was a manageable stack, if Daniel was able to walk with minimal support. If he wasn't, they'd forego just enough of the second choices so two people could manage the rest.  
  
Sam opened her mouth to answer, to tell O'Neill everything was a go, but as the same uneasiness which had dogged her on and off for the last few hours surged, she closed her mouth without saying anything. She was missing something. Something wasn't quite right. Looking down at the piece of paper in her hand, she studied the symbols for Oannes. For about the fifth time, she peered over at the DHD and did a quick comparison to locate the proper glyphs. As it happened, when Daniel had finished decoding the last of the altered symbols for Oannes they had found four of the six to be in the same locations on the dialing panels where they most frequently encountered them, on other planets. The same as they had discovered with the Earth address.  
  
Just out of interest, she had tried to dial Oannes not using Daniel's translated glyphs, but by following the usual location of glyphs. It hadn't worked, just as it hadn't worked to do it with the Earth symbols upon their arrival here. But they had a correct dialing sequence for Earth now, and she didn't doubt for a moment that they now had a valid sequence for Oannes. Daniel had done an amazing job. No, it was something else which niggled at her. She just wished she knew what the heck it was.  
  
Daniel. At the thought of his name, her unfocused discomfort grew to the point of provoking physical restlessness. She shifted, shuffled, and had to lock her knees to avoid starting to pace. Okay... so, it must have something to do with Daniel.  
  
"Carter?" The Colonel was looking at her with some impatience.  
  
Sam looked over to where Daniel sat on the ground, his back up against the same boulder which had been his fickle home away from home for far too long. The angled, harsh beam of light from the lantern atop the boulder washed across the top of his head and fell to illuminate his lap and legs, sending ugly shadows over his face and chest. Head tipped back to rest against the hard stone, his still bruised eyes closed and mouth open, limp hands resting in his lap, he looked more dead than alive. It was a good thing they were getting out of here now, because after six days of trying to cope with injury, illness, and impossible stress and responsibility, it was only a matter of time before - Oh, wait... Daniel. Yes. That was it.  
  
Suddenly realizing the source of her worry, she gave the Colonel a quick nod and moved over to Daniel. "Just let me check him out one more time, Sir." Crouching next to Daniel and putting her flashlight on the ground, she gently placed both hands on his face, at his temples. "Hey, Daniel. Sorry about the cold hands. How are you doing?"  
  
The only response was a wheezy gasp and a slight nod. Didn't matter; she'd known the answer before she had even asked the question. It was an inane pleasantry she probably should have kept to herself, given that the energy required to falsely reassure her was more than what reasonably could be expected of him at that point. Work on the final glyph hadn't been completed until well past dusk, by which time they had used all the remaining compazine and demerol. As soon as it was done and confirmed - as soon as the original shape of the final glyph was confirmed to be incorporated within the symbols Daniel had felt were the correct ones, and the resultant representation of Cra was actually located on the DHD itself - Daniel had all but completely decompensated. In a collapse reminiscent of, but not quite as brutal as his earlier catharsis up in the village, he had succumbed to the stress by curling up into as small a ball as the pain in his chest would allow and pulling the plug on the rest of the world.  
  
They had all agreed - waiting until morning was out of the question. It was time to go planet-hopping. Final destination, Earth, by way of Oannes and Cimmeria. But not quite yet, because now Sam knew they had missed something very important, a crucial piece of planning. "Daniel? Look at me?" He opened his eyes, and she tilted his head up a bit so she could see his face in the light. She caught the immediate, equal contraction of his pupils as the harsh flashlight beam fell across his face.  
  
Satisfied, she wormed her hands up under his shirt. As she gently palpated Daniel's sternum and rib cage, barely using enough pressure to indent his skin, he squeezed his eyes closed and gasped again, flinching slightly. Muttering her regret and a quiet warning, she placed her hands on either side of the centre of his chest, slid them out to either side along his ribcage and carefully squeezed, very slightly compressing his chest inward. Her stomach twisted and she felt faintly dizzy at the sickening sensation, the snap and give, under her hands. The queasiness abruptly intensified as Daniel's hips bucked and his legs kicked out weakly in involuntary reaction to the pain. She immediately withdrew her hands. Taking deep breaths as she smoothed his t-shirt back into place, Sam promised both Daniel and herself that was the last time she would need to do that. He didn't acknowledge her apology.  
  
She rose and walked the few steps over to the Colonel and Teal'c. Not quite sure how to say what she knew O'Neill might not want to hear, she resorted to some temporary filler. "It doesn't look like he's actually worse physically, Sir. The give in his chest feels the same as it did before. We already know some of the symptoms he had before with his head seem to have cleared a bit over the last day or so, and he's managed to keep down at least some fluids. Still pretty dehydrated, though. I think it's just that he's not able to fight it anymore."  
  
"Carter, is there some special reason for this unsolicited medical update?" O'Neill's words were spoken quietly, but with enough sarcasm and force that she knew she had made an error in not just spitting it out. "Once we get him home, Fraiser can do all sorts of exams and spout enough jargon to last you a while. She might even let you watch the icky stuff." He stared at her, clearly annoyed at the delay. "We need to get going."  
  
"Yes, Sir. But Daniel... he can't go, Sir."  
  
She found herself on the receiving end of incredulous looks from both her team members. O'Neill's vehement, "What?" was quickly followed by Teal'c's, "For what reason?"  
  
She shifted nervously and looked behind her, at Daniel, as she spoke. "If we go dragging him around through wormholes, I'm worried we'll be placing him at risk. We don't really know what's wrong in his chest, but it's pretty clear something's given way. And we don't know how long we'd need to stay on Cimmeria before we get hold of the Sagan Box and the SGC responds."  
  
"Oh, well, right then. So we'll just stay here. Maybe put up some curtains, a little paint, dig a swimming pool - Dammit, Carter!"  
  
O'Neill looked over her shoulder and cursed, and she followed his concerned gaze. Daniel was obviously aware there was some sort of serious discussion going on. Trying to sit up straighter, his attention clearly on the three of them, he was having trouble getting himself rearranged. Sam placed a hand on O'Neill's chest as he tried to go around her, to go help. She spoke as quickly as she could, to get the rest of it out before he moved any closer to Daniel.  
  
"If the wormhole opens, I think just two of us should go through, Sir. The Cimmerians aren't exactly technologically advanced. Other than offering us a place to hang out, they can't help him any more than we can. Until we get back to Earth, taking Daniel with us isn't going to change his situation. Except that if we get a rough ride he may pop a rib or something worse, with all the activity."  
  
"Major Carter. I believe it was yourself who indicated the former host Kendra was proficient with a Goa'uld healing device."  
  
The Colonel had a definite 'yeah, so there' look on his face, and Teal'c wasn't exactly lacking in the smug department either. They both looked down their noses at her and moved to walk around her, and she quickly sidestepped to stay in their path. She wanted to yell at them to just listen to her, but for Daniel's sake she kept her voice and her rising anxiety under control. "That's taking an unnecessary risk, Teal'c. He'd be safer just staying here."  
  
With an appreciative glance at Teal'c, O'Neill nodded and looked almost cheerful. "We all go together, Carter. Teal'c can help him through." As Teal'c tilted his head in the affirmative, he added, "You're worrying about nothing. Teal'c has a good idea. As much as I hate snakestuff, we can always take him to Kendra if we need to. But we won't need to."  
  
In her mind she saw Daniel hurtle out of the 'gate on Oannes, hit the stone dais with a sickening thud, roll down the steps and onto the ground... geysers of gases erupting into flames - No. No way. She was right. She wanted to throttle both of them for their shortsightedness. "Well, we're going to Oannes first, and the Cimmeria 'gate isn't exactly in Kendra's living room. So that works only if we find her before he drowns in his own blood when his ribs shred his lungs. I don't recall mention of any sarcophagus on Cimmeria, do you, Sir? Besides, we don't even know if the healing device fixes anything worse than a broken wrist, in the first place."  
  
She barely had time to acknowledge the vague stirrings of guilt over her cruel choice of words. Grim-faced and obviously angry, the Colonel stood frozen in place for a moment before he pushed her in the shoulder, spinning her away from him, and marched on past. Teal'c's frown settled back into his usual impassive mask as he slowly stepped forward with her to watch the Colonel kneel on the ground next to Daniel. When he spoke to Daniel, it was with a soft enough voice that she and Teal'c had to move closer in order to hear.  
  
"Hey, Daniel. When the wormhole opens, I'm going to send Teal'c and Carter through. You and I will stay here."  
  
Daniel looked up at him. The word, "Why?" came out in a faint rush of air, laden with confusion and worry.  
  
Sam hurriedly joined them. "Sorry, Daniel. We should have thought of this sooner. We don't want to run the risk of hurting you, going through the wormholes. We can go, and bring back a rescue stretcher. We have Earth's address, so it would be a quick one-way ride for you."  
  
He closed his eyes briefly and reached out for her with one shaky hand as he tried to take a deep breath and failed, with unpleasant consequences. She grabbed hold of his forearm, offering support in the form of a steady grip as he struggled to catch his breath. His voice was as unsteady as his hand, and his eyes pleaded with them. "Sam, please. I, I really... I don't want to stay here."  
  
Oh, Daniel. She felt her heart drop about six inches in her chest. This was hard. How could she sit here and calmly tell him it was for the best that he stay here, after all this planet had meant for him. In a surprisingly insightful speech, the Colonel's soft voice offered Daniel the reassurance she was having trouble finding the words to deliver.  
  
"I'll be here with you. Look, I know you want off this rock, we all do. God knows, Daniel, you deserve to get up and be the first to walk through that 'gate. But hey, you know she's right." A soft smile lit his words with a mild touch of humour. "No matter about Carter going on and on about wormhole physics... what, something to do with the velocity of in-one-end ought to equal that of out-the-other or some other garbage-in garbage-out thing... we all know we can't predict when the wormhole is going to do an imitation of a wood chipper. I'm going to stay here with you, and they'll be back with help before we know it."  
  
Daniel visibly relaxed, giving in to the logic and the sentiment behind it. "Yeah, okay." As O'Neill stood, Daniel suddenly took a pretty successful stab at a grin and reached out to take a swipe at his pant leg. "Jack, tell me you don't want them to leave us here because you want to see..."  
  
Sam had no idea of what he was talking about but the Colonel obviously did, as he quickly stooped down and cut Daniel off with a short laugh and a playful almost-cuff to the side of his head. "Oh, been there, done that. Not a pretty sight. And when we get home, I'm going to get t-shirts made up and hand them out."  
  
T-shirts... oh! Now she understood. Grinning, she shared in the joke with them, gently poking Daniel on the arm. "Hey, right. Go Big Or Go Home, right?"  
  
Both of their heads turned as one and they stared at her, no trace of humour or camaraderie anywhere in sight. Also as one, two serious voices flatly pronounced, "Wrong." Which didn't end the intense staring.  
  
Confused, she stood up and backed away, muttering over her shoulder to Teal'c, "Uhm, do you know what's going on? What did I say? "  
  
He stood at her shoulder, one eyebrow raised as he looked from O'Neill to Daniel and then at her. "I do not. As to what you said, I believe you offered a choice between some sort of enlargement and a return to one's domicile. Perhaps it was the inexplicability of your words which provoked such a reaction."  
  
"Teal'c that's not what it...." Sam sighed, all too willing to give up on it. "Never mind that now. We should get ready to go."  
  
He joined her as she moved toward the DHD. "As O'Neill and Daniel Jackson often say, you will explain later?"  
  
"No. Teal'c. I don't think I will." She placed a hand on his arm. "Let's just go home, okay?"

 

* * *

  
  
Oh damn shit damn. As the chevrons winked out of existence yet again, Jack felt his knees go weak and concentrated upon setting a good example in successfully remaining upright. As long as he didn't look back, as long as he avoided the sight of Daniel's overwhelming despair, he figured he might be up to the challenge.  
  
Uneven, dragging footsteps, crunching and shuffling on the dirt slowly approaching, were evidence he wasn't the only one feeling a bit on the unsteady side. Carter appeared out of the gloom, the expression on her face so close to the one he was so studiously trying to avoid that it was almost his undoing. Her flashlight dangled carelessly from where she had attached it to her vest, casting an irregularly bobbing light in advance of her. Upon reaching his side, she dragged a hand through her hair and didn't meet his eyes.  
  
As a distraught cry of denial carried across to them, they both turned, equally reluctantly, toward its origin. Toward where Teal'c and Daniel sat with the laptop. Where Teal'c was just in the process of saving the computer from an untimely demise at the hands of a very upset Daniel. Jack watched dumbfounded as Daniel violently pounded his fists on the keyboard and hit out at the screen, breaking the hinge, and then, moving far more quickly than Jack thought the man would be able to at this point, grabbed the whole thing up and went to hurl it away from him. Teal'c neatly fielded it just as Jack's legs responded to his brain and he moved forward.  
  
He and Carter arrived at the same time, almost tripping over one another as they both aimed for the same single square foot of ground space next to Daniel. The young man sat bent forward, his head down, both arms hugging his chest. He rocked back and forth noticeably. Jack found the irregular, vaguely moaning, noises coming from him alarming. Ominous. Placing a hand on Daniel's shoulder, he was dismayed at the vehemence with which the young man tried to pull away from his touch. He looked over at Teal'c, who was studiously attempting to close the cracked top of the computer without doing damage to the one remaining, albeit barely intact, hinge. "Teal'c?"  
  
The Jaffa continued to fiddle with the laptop. Jack sorely wanted to do a Daniel-imitation, to rip it out of his hands and throw it as far away as possible. Instead, using as much control as he had left in him, he simply placed a firm hand flat on the top of the thing, effectively interfering with Teal'c's effort to lose himself in that particular avoidance activity. As Teal'c looked up at him, Jack tilted his head in Daniel's direction - who sat totally involved in primal rocking, quietly and unintelligibly mumbling to himself - and raised an eyebrow.  
  
"We have intensively reviewed the process for identification of the first four glyphs. Daniel Jackson asserts the symbol for Cra must be correct. I told him he is in error; it simply cannot be. He... reacted unfavourably."  
  
That was an understatement. At Teal'c's words, the rocking intensified and the quiet muttering became louder. As the sounds swelled, becoming recognizable as actual speech, Jack sat frozen in place, his own earlier feelings of worry and discouragement growing into an overpowering fear for his friend. Because Daniel was sitting there unmistakably repeating in time with the rhythmic movement of his body, the word barely penetrating a weak and faintly hysterical overlay of desperate, deprecatory laughter, "wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong..."  
  
Alarmed and dismayed past caring about self-control, Jack found himself pushing out at Teal'c, snarling, almost babbling. "Oh way to go, way to go, fuzz-brain. Think maybe you can find a way to put a little more negative emphasis on that advice? Think you could have found a better way to doom us all here? Where the hell do you get off thinking you know better?" Carter placed a restraining hand on his arm and he angrily cast it off, swinging around to face her. "No, don't even try to tell me to settle down, Carter. Look. Just look at Daniel. You hear that? You hear what..."  
  
Her hand reappeared on his arm and tightened, almost painfully so. Her whisper was a sibilant hiss, full of urgency. "Sir! Stop... stop." She shook his arm slightly and indicated Daniel with a quick jerk of her head.  
  
Eyes squeezed shut, rocking, rocking, arms clasped tightly around his chest... but with his head up now, his face fully visible, chin tilted at a defiant angle and overt anger evident in the tight set of his jaw and curl of his lips, muscles clenching in his cheek -  
  
In a low tense whisper, Daniel was talking to him. "Jack, ssshhh. Shut up. Can't think. Jack, listen, it's wrong... shut up, shut up..."  
  
Okay. Shut up it was. Carter transferred her hand to Daniel's shoulder. "Okay, Daniel. It's okay. We're listening."  
  
In amongst the tormented to and fro, Daniel's head nodded in acknowledgment. But then his eyes abruptly flew open and he jerked forward, both hands flying out in front of him in an instinctive effort to break a fall as he pitched head first toward the ground. Jack barely managed to catch him before Daniel could end up flat on his face. Held in place by Jack's hands on his chest, Daniel sat pushed back onto his haunches, his hands splayed out on the ground, fingers spasmodically clawing at the dirt. A line of red-tinged spit appeared on his chin as he managed to grind out, "Agh... sick," just a scant second before fulfilling the promise. With a shout and a convulsive backward movement which sent a sympathetic spasm of pain into Jack's own gut, Daniel violently retched and brought up a small amount of thick, slimy stuff onto both himself and Jack's hands.  
  
Jack felt the powerful muscle spasms in Daniel's chest under his hands, and before Daniel had even recovered enough breath to give voice to the pain, Jack was on it. "Morphine... Carter, go get the med kit." She didn't hesitate, and he returned his attention to Daniel, trying to transfer his grip to anywhere else but that chest without allowing him to fall over. He was surprised when the young man's weight suddenly entirely lifted off his hands, and looked up to see Teal'c taking over the burden of supporting a still choking, hacking, Daniel.  
  
Carter was at his side again in a flash, and gratefully he indicated she should do the honours. Amazingly enough, though, Daniel batted at her hand when she went to gain access to his upper arm. Shaking his head, he managed to stammer out an objection. "No. Hate... that stuff. Can't think straight." He folded over on himself one more time as he dry retched.  
  
Carter persisted, trying to raise the arm of the t-shirt high enough to get a clear shot at the muscle, but Daniel pulled his arm away and with a push of his legs, propelled himself back sharply enough that he effectively deposited himself right in Teal'c's lap. Teal'c wrapped strong arms around him, and there was nowhere else to go after that. Jack swore in frustration as Carter hesitated, sitting back on her heels instead of diving in for the kill.  
  
"No. I won't force it on him." She gazed squarely at Jack, her expression a complex mixture of old guilt, immense sadness, and new determination. Frustrated and tired of the whole mess, he wanted to snatch the syringe out of her hand and do it himself, but the innate rightness of her words held him back. She seemed to see that realization dawn on him, and gave him a fleeting smile before turning to Daniel. "Okay. Daniel, it's okay. We'll put it away for the time being."  
  
Teal'c bent his head down, softly speaking into Daniel's ear. Jack didn't catch what was said, but he couldn't miss the effect of the words. Daniel nodded, closed his eyes, and made a visible effort to relax his breathing and his body, sagging slightly in Teal'c's arms and leaning his head back against the strong chest behind him. Jack spread his hands apart in a request for information and with a droll expression on his face, Teal'c gave it to him. "I advised him that should he persist in this behavior and continue to appear to require the medication, it would soon be myself he must deal with rather than Captain Carter. I advised meditation."  
  
Ah. That was good. It certainly seemed to work. Daniel lay passively in Teal'c's embrace, obviously doing his best to comply. If he was going to refuse the hypo, this had to be the next best thing. "Oh, all right. Way to go, Teal'c."  
  
Teal'c frowned. "O'Neill, have I erred?"  
  
"Ahh, what?" Jack didn't understand what the heck Teal'c meant by that, but it seemed Carter did because she let out a slight chuckle. Daniel evidently, even in his condition, had more surviving brain cells than Jack himself, because he followed up on the chuckle with a faint snort of his own, jerking forward slightly as the quick exhalation obviously hurt.  
  
And it was Daniel who answered Teal'c's question. Laying one hand over Teal'c's own on his chest, Daniel curled up his lips at one corner and gave Teal'c's hand a sloppy pat. "No, no. That was fine, Teal'c. I'll explain later."  
  
If anything, Teal'c's frown intensified, and as Carter's clearly strained laugh tinkled over him Jack was thoroughly lost as to what the problem was. He wasn't sure he even wanted to know. It was pretty clear that unless he was going to figure it out for himself, he wasn't about to find out, as Carter changed the subject. He willingly let it go as she leaned closer to Daniel, placing the syringe in her jacket pocket. "Daniel, can you talk to us now? What was it you needed to say?"  
  
Daniel rolled his head against Teal'c's chest, looking up behind him at the Jaffa. A grimace crossed his features and he visibly bit down hard on his lower lip. Jack winced at the sight of red appearing on Daniel's teeth. Closing his eyes, Daniel brought his head back around to face forward. "Ugh. So dizzy. God, Sam, isn't this ever going to go away?"  
  
Jack knew the answer to that one. "Yes, of course it is, Danny. As soon as we get you home, Doc Fraiser will stick tubes into, out of, and up and down every hole you've got and then poke some new holes. And then you'll feel much better."  
  
Daniel's voice dropped to a bare whisper. "Gee, thanks, Jack." He'd re-opened the split in his lip, and Jack watched as a small trickle of fresh blood made its way down to his chin, where it deviated to follow his jawline for an inch or so before tracking on down his neck.  
  
"Daniel, we'll get you home. We'll figure it out, together." Even as Jack said the words, he was aware of the strength just voicing them aloud imbued. Even though he knew it was a long shot at best, he felt better for having said it.  
  
He was rewarded with a faint smile. "Yeah." Daniel's head cautiously rolled back once again, and looked up at Teal'c's face. Both his voice and expression held sincere apology. "Teal'c, I'm sorry, I know you were just trying to help, but you're wrong. It isn't Cra."  
  
Carter broke in. "But Daniel, the address craps out at the fifth glyph, and we _know_ that one is right. Bootes and Eridanus are the first and second glyphs and Equuleus is the fourth, and they're all located in the right spots on the DHD, so it has to be Cra."  
  
Daniel began to shake his head in an assertive contradiction of what she had just said. Jack reached out, allowing his flailing hand to find an anchor as the young man reeled wildly from obvious vertigo, once again showing signs of nausea. They waited for it to settle. Still gasping, his hand cold and dry in Jack's grip and his face twisted with effort and worry, Daniel tried again, this time without the head shake. "No. Sam, that's not necessarily so. Just because the symbols are in the place we most often see them... " His expression clouded further, grew more anxious. "But I was so sure. I really thought they were right."  
  
Ahh, uh oh. Oh, shit. No, no, don't want to hear this. Carter turned to him, her eyes wide as she clearly considered the implications of Daniel's statement. "He has a point, Sir. While it doesn't happen very often, they aren't always in the same place everywhere we go. And that means..." He waved her off abruptly. He knew damn well what that meant. Don't say it. Just don't... la-la-la-la-la-la-laaa...  
  
"While it is most likely Cra, we cannot ignore the remote possibility it could be any of them that are the wrong one, O'Neill."  
  
Shit. Teal'c said it. Jack glared at him.  
  
"Yes. Sir, the implications are worrisome. I agree with Teal'c that it's probably Cra, and as for the rest, well, the fifth symbol is defintely correct; it's part of the deciphered Earth address. So if the others form a valid address up to and including the fourth symbol, then if for the moment we ignore assessment of the process used to decipher the glyphs, logically it could be any of the first four symbols that don't form a valid address with Cancer."  
  
Oy. Why was it everyone around him always felt the need to nauseatingly explain all the crappy bad stuff with such earnest persuasiveness? Jack looked at Daniel, working hard to keep his own worry off his face. "Daniel?"  
  
Confirmation of the depth of their problem came in the form of a deeply despairing look, and the exact words Jack would not accept. "I... I don't... I can't... I just don't understand. It doesn't make any sense. I'm so sorry."  
  
"No. No, don't apologize, Daniel. It's a glitch, like I said before. A minor glitch. We'll work it out in no time."  
  
"Uh, actually, Sir..." Arrrggh! Carter! His head pulsed with sudden pressure and he wanted to scream at her. He thought he was, he was certain he had just blown up like a wad of detonated C4 - but evidently not, as after a moment he realized she was still talking and no one was running around in a panic with his brains all over them. "If we accept the possibility it could be any of the four of them..."  
  
"Three. It's not Cra." Daniel's voice was barely present, but the meaning came through loud and clear. He was certain.  
  
She placed a hand on Daniel's arm, her tone persuasive. "Okay. All right, Daniel, let's look at this, then. If we go on the assumption it's not Cra, then where do we start? It took two days to come up with this sequence, even with the computer files. And we pretty much exhausted all of what you thought were reasonable conceptual alternatives for each of the three glyphs, in doing that." Her voice became more forceful. "Except for Cra."  
  
Daniel's face twisted and his throat constricted. It was his turn to look as though he might go off with a bang, although in this case it was clear to Jack the explosion would collapse inward rather than blow outward. Protective instincts flowing at high tide, Jack turned on Carter. "Shit, you know, he _was_ right about you before. What the hell is your doomsday point this time, Carter?"  
  
There was an anguished moan come from Daniel, and Teal'c's voice, loud and firm, interrupted the nastiness. "Stop this. It will not assist us." He bent his head and once again spoke infinitely softly into Daniel's ear. This time, Jack caught it. "You know she is correct. Cra is the one you had most difficulty with even beginning on, and it is also the only one of the four with which you did not consider concepts other than your initial selection."  
  
Daniel seemed close to tears. Jack's jaw clenched so abruptly his teeth hurt. That grinding only got worse when Daniel spoke, as it became readily apparent he was actually well past that point. Jack realized only Daniel's lack of body fluids and shortness of breath had hid that fact. Gasping, his throat working convulsively, Daniel managed to choke out, "No, Teal'c, please... that's because it was right the first time. Oh, God, please. I don't... I don't understand. They're _all_ right, all four of them... they have to be right... please believe me." Then the scant, precious fluids did make their way to his eyes, single tear tracks making their way down each cheek as Daniel closed his eyes against the skepticism directed at him.  
  
Carter spoke equally as softly as Teal'c had. "Daniel, you know that's impossible. It isn't working." Her voice changed, became slightly louder and more assertive as she transferred her gaze to Jack. "Sir, we have to dial out, taking Daniel's incorrect glyph for Cra and sequentially replacing it with each of the other glyphs on the DHD until we get past the point where it shuts down, and then try continuing on with the ones we have. There may be quite a few which work in the third spot, but still are the wrong one. We won't be sure which is the correct one until the _entire_ sequence is entered and remains active. But if it's just Cra we're trying to replace, it shouldn't take too long to get it. If any of the others are also incorrect, though, it won't work at all. But then at least we'll know it's either not Cra that's the problem, or it is, but there's more than just that one wrong. We'd need to start from the first glyph and try the same process of elimination."  
  
God. And if that was the case, it could take forever to figure out. Days, weeks, months, longer. It was all too obvious to Jack neither Teal'c nor Carter were prepared to discard their disbelief in the job Daniel had done, even in the face of such a task and Daniel's desperate plea for acceptance. Considering the address clearly was wrong, Jack could understand why. As much as he wanted to demonstrate blind faith, he couldn't. One or more of the glyphs weren't right, it wasn't working; that spoke for itself. And if Cra wasn't the problem, then what was? Having blind faith in Daniel was not something Jack would dismiss out of hand... over the last year he'd seen a few rabbits pulled alive out of flaming hats, most of them by Daniel, when it had seemed impossible. But in this case, to rely on blind faith in contravention of the facts when standing on the edge of a cliff - To accept Daniel's assurances about Cra meant they had an infinitely worse problem, and no where to go to try to solve it.  
  
Shit. Carter's suggestion about Cra looked like the best they had, but unless they lucked out, it would take at least a few hours. But the alternative would take longer - like, forever. He turned to Carter, his gut hardening at having to say it aloud. "Okay. All right. So we have to start with Cra, then." Daniel simply opened his eyes, looked at him for a few seconds, and closed them again. Jack wasn't entirely sure who he had just stabbed through the heart, himself or Daniel. Probably both. Yeah. Definitely, both. He placed a few fingers on Daniel's face and tapped gently on his cheek. "Daniel? I know how sick you feel, but it would be great if we could find some short cuts here. Do you think you can manage to help us with that?"

 

* * *

  
  
The sense of betrayal was huge. Overwhelming. Daniel jerked away from the soft touch on his cheek. Once again, as it had just over two weeks earlier, their lack of faith in him cut deeply. He hadn't given up then - the fate of Earth had hinged upon him forcing the issue - but this was different. The only thing which, as an absolute certainty, hinged upon making them listen to him now was his own survival. The others had time. There were plenty of supplies for the three of them; Carter could bang away methodically at the DHD for weeks. And while there was time for them, there was hope.  
  
But he didn't have time. Especially not time to waste on fruitless chases after solutions to non-existent problems. Cra was _correct_. Daniel could understand Teal'c's resistance; the Jaffa had been with him through deciphering the other glyphs and knew just how many variations they had needed to try before hitting upon a conceptualization which yielded symbols found on the DHD. But with Cra, not only had Teal'c had seen that process greatly abbreviated, but they'd had some initial difficulty in making a connection between the concept and the symbols.  
  
Sam... well, Daniel had been there, done that. He knew Sam's objections were based upon her preference to place her trust in linear thinking. While she intellectually understood his rationale for the process he used to do the glyphs, Daniel knew she still didn't entirely buy into the underlying assumptions he had made, and certainly the leaps of faith and intuition he used in pulling it off were a source of worry for her. She saw the end result, it wasn't working, and was opting for systematic reconstructive surgery rather than intuitive diagnosis in dealing with the problem.  
  
Jack was another story all together. Jack had been there at his side, had seen the individual pieces slot together perfectly, so very elegantly, to form Cra. Jack had to know it was right, he had to... but he'd just thrown it all away. Daniel heard the soft whine as Carter booted up the laptop, heard Jack repeat his request for Daniel to help, and this time it wasn't bile which rose in Daniel's throat. It was bitterness. They were wasting his precious time  
  
Daniel felt the breath-stealing heaviness on his chest, the pounding in his head, sensed the nausea waiting to pounce once again should the precarious balance between he and his surroundings waver, to tip and slide off-centre. He was all too aware of the tingling in his arms and legs, the hollow feeling in his gut, and the immense weakness which dragged him down, stealing his ability to so much as care for his own basic needs. In fact, he was finally at the point where it was a damn good thing his bladder capacity was so far in excess of his fluid intake, because he was pretty sure he hadn't enough strength remaining to so much as manage to expose himself, never mind sit up and aim straight.  
  
So... help them? How? As if they needed his help to systematically work their way around the glyph panels in a totally doomed attempt to find a working replacement for Cra. If he'd had the breath to laugh out loud, he would have. If they were dead set on using the time he had left in this way, then he figured maybe his best way to use it was to just lay there, maybe try to drop off to sleep. That would be just as productive an activity as what they were planning on doing.  
  
He felt Jack's hand drop to his shoulder, heard him repeat the question, elaborating on the request this time. "Daniel? Come on, buddy, open your eyes for a second here. There must be other interpretations of Cra we could work through. Some way to try to reduce the number of possibilities."  
  
When he didn't respond, a shake of his shoulder drove a pain through his chest and a spike of anger through his gut. Jack wanted him to open his eyes, did he? Daniel figured it wasn't just him who had them closed in the first place. Okay, fine. He could open some eyes. He would. Snapping his own eyes open, ignoring as best he could the way the light from the lanterns and Jack himself twisted and flipped and tipped, Daniel didn't even try to soften the bitterness in his voice. "Me open my eyes, Jack? I don't think that's going to be much help, when it's the three of you who are blind. I can't help you with finding an alternative to Cra. There isn't one."  
  
There was a quick and vehement exhalation of air from Jack, and it wasn't possible to miss the increased tension in Teal'c's body as he stiffened behind him. Daniel both felt and heard the man's disapproval as Teal'c's voice vibrated against his back and rumbled into his ear. "You would refuse to assist us? Daniel Jackson, unless we are able to correct the error within the next day, it seems likely your condition will advance to the point where you may not survive."  
  
"Teal'c..."  
  
Daniel interrupted Jack. "No, Jack. It doesn't go away just because you don't talk about it." He tried to turn his head so he could at least direct his voice over his shoulder to Teal'c, but it was too much of an effort. He ended up with a compromise, his head turned to one side, his cheek resting against Teal'c's chest. He closed his eyes again and struggled to keep his voice steady. "I... not even a day, Teal'c. I, ah, I think it would be pretty hard to reverse this trend now. No matter how much I want to live, I'm pretty sure not even Apophis coming through that 'gate could get me up off my ass."  
  
There was a period of silence which seemed to stretch out so far that were it not for the warmth and strong support of Teal'c behind him, Daniel might have thought his teammates were no longer there. It was broken by the same deep vibration at his back and rumble in his ear, this time minus the judgment; a simple a statement of fact. "Apophis is dead."  
  
Daniel smiled against the fabric of Teal'c's jacket, knowing full well what struck him as amusing would only be disconcerting to the others. He said it anyway, because it was the truth. "Yeah. Well, just goes to show you, not even the appearance of the living dead is going to stir this tired old body."  
  
Sam's voice sounded odd, strained and kind of uneven. Daniel didn't open his eyes to check to see if it was out of fear, sadness, or irritation. Or some combination thereof. He didn't want to know. "All the more reason to get going on fixing Cra, Daniel. If you can work on some alternative concepts while I make my way around the DHD, we'll be increasing our chances of finding the solution. And the sooner we get it figured out, the sooner you get medical attention."  
  
Hurt and anger reasserted themselves and he couldn't help but point out again, "No, not the way you want to do it, Sam. If you want to waste time and energy on that, well, you'll just need to do it by yourself."  
  
"Oh, Christ." There was a small explosion of sound from directly in front of Daniel as Jack suddenly moved away from him and spoke angrily. Daniel knew Jack had gotten up and was probably pacing, as his voice seemed to move back and forth. "Okay, Daniel. So what other suggestions do you have? What? We should take the other three and start from scratch, do them all over again? If you don't like what Carter wants to do, then come up with a viable alternative."  
  
Daniel squeezed his eyes closed more tightly, burrowing his head into Teal'c's chest. Something powerfully nasty was writhing in his stomach, building in his chest, tightening a band of tension around his throat. A viable alternative. His definition of viable and theirs clearly was not necessarily the same, but even so, he wished he had an alternative to suggest, irrespective of whose perspective on viability was used. He didn't understand. Cra was correct, and he'd already done all he could with the others...  
  
It was Teal'c who answered, and at his words Daniel felt himself painfully squeezed between a rock and a hard place, the inward collapse of the outside world rushing to meet with the relentlessly building pressure from within. "Multiple alternatives were explored in the search for the first three glyphs, O'Neill. It is my opinion they must be correct. Their placement on the DHD further supports this likelihood. In any event, if any of them are incorrect, it is highly unlikely we have the necessary information in the Altarian language database to explore viable further possibilities for them. We have no choice but to pursue Cra."  
  
Oh, this was so, so much bullshit. Cra was correct. It was almost impossible to breathe. The crushing swell reached his head now, the pressure forcing his heartbeat to thrum wildly in his ears and pulse behind his eyeballs. But for the inward compression of the rest of the world, it felt as though his head would explode. It had to be one of the others, but he hadn't the faintest idea where to start. He was lost, unable to deal with that on his own. If only they would believe him, would help him to figure out where he had really gone wrong instead of insisting upon destroying what he'd done right -  
  
Through the rising drumbeat in his head, he heard Sam add her advice. "I agree, Sir. I don't know how Daniel could... never mind. Cra is the only way to go. It's undeniable."  
  
It was his undoing.  
  
"No!" Pitching forward, eyes opening, hands going up to his head to hold in what he was sure was about to messily pop right out with the increase in pressure, he practically screamed at her. "You're wrong! You need to listen to me, why do you people have to deny, to destroy, everything you don't understand?" Daniel wavered precariously on his rear, his heels digging into the ground in front of him the only thing which kept him from overbalancing into a spectacular face-plant into the dirt. The absence of Teal'c's arms on his own, or any other support from the others, dimly registered. Pain flared, the unpleasant snap seizing into a prolonged catch of fire in the centre of his chest. He sagged back against Teal'c and felt the Jaffa move ever so slightly back away from him. It was not a removal of physical support, but something worse - an undeniable withdrawal of the comfort which had been freely offered up until this point.  
  
He felt fingers grasp his chin, turn his head, and he found himself staring into Sam's eyes. There was hurt there, and a glimmer of tears, but her voice was rock solid. "That's out of line, Daniel. I always thought we _people_ were your friends. And we don't destroy things just because we don't understand them." He wanted to tell her he knew that... that what he'd actually said was not exactly what he'd meant, but she continued on. "We try to figure out what we don't understand, and that's exactly what we're doing now. What we've just done."  
  
At the last part of what she said, the air burst out of him in a sharp snort of disagreement which he couldn't have contained even if he had wanted to. His chest spasmed, preventing anything but a single word in response. "No..."  
  
Her fingers tightened on his chin. "You ask why we deny what we don't understand? Well, the answer is, we don't. But now I have a question for you, Daniel. Why can't you ever accept anyone's view but your own? Why is it you're the one who's always right?"  
  
Daniel wasn't sure what hurt most, her criticism, the pain in his head and chest, or the certain knowledge that even if he capitulated and falsely agreed about the glyph, there was no way it was going to change anything. Carefully gathering and controlling enough breath to ask for final confirmation, he looked over her shoulder, trying to locate Jack. He saw a vaguely black form against the darkness, out of reach of the beam of the light, and aimed his words in that direction in the off chance it was him. "Are you going to rework Cra?"  
  
A single word, harsh and unyielding, came out of the blackness. "Yes."  
  
Oh, Jack, no. "Can someone help me look elsewhere for the problem?"  
  
This time the voice came from behind him. "I will help you explore alternatives for Cra."  
  
Oh, God, please. No matter how many heads worked on Cra, the only possible end result was failure. And by the time they figured that out, he'd be past the point of being able to work on anything else. Not that he knew what the hell else there was to work on. This was impossible. He simply didn't know where to look, what to do. It was all over. It took a moment to dig rational thought out of the morass of disappointment and fear which immobilized his mind, only to come to the realization this was a pain he was no longer willing to bear. Tilting his chin upward, twisting his head slightly to indicate his rejection of the fingers still on his face, he forced himself to remain outwardly calm as he spoke, full well knowing they wouldn't miss the implication in the few words he managed to spit out.  
  
"Hurts. Need morphine."  
  
He heard Sam's quick intake of air, felt Teal'c tense up and then immediately draw back from him. Daniel's surface calm dissolved in the stunned silence which surrounded him. He felt his face twist, his jaw spasm, and knew it was coming despite his best efforts to hold it back. How could he not cry? The combination of disappointment in them for delivering what was essentially a death sentence and his hatred of himself for his weakness, for his willingness to desert them in favour of a drugged stupor, was enough to reduce anyone to tears.  
  
It didn't happen, though. Instead, just as the intense nausea had done so many times, the feeling of distress grew and expanded until it filled his whole being. He hovered on the very edge of total desperation, praying for release in either direction - to regain control or to lose it completely; which one it would be, was not even important. He wasn't sure how long it was he struggled with it, how much time passed before the voice once again came out of the dark to shatter the last tenuous remains of hope.  
  
"Give it to him, Carter."  
  
Sam's face appeared in front of his own. He was sure he saw reproach there and closed his eyes so as not to have to look at it. "Daniel, are you sure?" Amazingly, the censure didn't come across through her voice. For a second he wondered if he had imagined it. But he couldn't, wouldn't, have imagined it, because he knew it represented the only thing she could possible feel for him right then. He was abandoning them. Guilt and defeat ate up his answer before the words could even make it to his mouth and the best he could do was to nod, dumbly.  
  
Warm hands adjusted his clothing and grasped his upper arm. He felt Teal'c's arms strongly encircle him as the sting of the drug sent fire into his shoulder. He heard Teal'c tell him he'd stay there with him until he fell asleep... and the guilt increased to almost unbearable proportions. And then as he realized he was glad he hadn't been left alone this time, shame swamped him, grew arms which usurped those of his friend and enveloped him in an embrace devoid of comfort and warmth. He floundered, vainly trying to combat it, but memories and visions of better times, of gains and successes, were quickly trampled and negated by those of sorrowful events, of losses and failures. Sha're, Skarra, the destruction of the Hammer, Hathor - ugh - the dispute over the Cor-ai, Senator Kinsey, oh, double ugh...  
  
He heard the dull sound of the glyph panels and the chunk of the 'gate chevrons, followed by the low whine as the DHD powered down, the address not valid. He heard soft murmurs of conversation between Sam and Jack at the DHD, and the process repeated. Again and again. Absently, he wondered what it would be like for them if by some incredible miracle it actually worked, if the 'gate opened for them. The thrill of success. He'd be happy for them. He'd like to be happy for them... A swirl of colour appeared in the black behind his closed eyelids and he tracked it for a few seconds until it faded into a dim grey blur. He felt the ground under him and the person behind him moving, drifting, following along with his eyeballs. Success... suk-sess... sucksses Sucks. Majorly sucks. The agony of defeat.  
  
The pain and pressure in his chest and head slowly receded to be replaced with an ambiguously uncomfortable, hazy sensation of fullness. The repeated sounds of the 'gate and the DHD softened and blurred, becoming almost indistinguishable from the dull roar in his ears. With his limbs full of heat and so heavy as to be completely immovable, he lay against Teal'c and drifted. After some unknown amount of time, he thought perhaps the DHD and 'gate had fallen silent, but he really couldn't tell for sure.  
  
Through an escalating distortion of time and space and increasing drowsiness, he heard and felt Teal'c's heartbeat, and once in a while he became curious about the intermittent slight stirring lower down against the small of his back. Ah, Junior. Upon finally being able to hold a train of thought long enough to recognize the source of that subtle prodding, it occurred to him it was actually four beings he had deserted through this surrender. The dense muzziness had taken full control, and even that dismal thought was not enough to pull him back from the edge of the deep black hole which opened up beneath him.  
  
Vague awareness of what might be the 'gate chevrons and sudden strident voices filtered through the dense blanket of insensibility settling over him. A sudden jarring against his back, renewed pain in his chest, and an accompanying dizzying sense of abrupt movement coincided with a seemingly familiar yet not entirely comprehensible noise. The Stargate? A wormhole? Sucks-ess? Not even that was enough to pull him back from willingly toppling over the brink into darkness.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

**Part Eight**

  
This time. It would work this time.

Feeling his fingernails dig into his palm, Jack forced himself to relax his fist. There'd been quite enough blood and pain on this trip as it was. An unbidden, unwelcome image of his ill teammate, battered and suffering, filled his mind and he roughly pushed it away. That part was over. Done with. Can't change it. Ignore it.

The next chevron on the Stargate lit and he found himself holding his breath as the following one was input. Only to let it out in a huge puff of exasperation as the previous chevrons winked out of existence. Again.

There was no doubt they would find the correct address. It was simply a matter of elimination, after all. He just wished it would happen sooner rather than later. Hell, it already was later. While Jack himself was pretty much past caring, it was actually out of respect for Daniel that he was still standing here, doing this. Bitterness provoked a sharp twinge in his jaw. After all Daniel had done and struggled through, that he couldn't be here, couldn't be a part of finding the solution, was considerably worse than intolerable. The sudden frustration was like a gut-punch, painfully seizing his insides in its wake.

Three chevrons lit, then a fourth. Everything shut down yet again. This really sucked. It was every bit as bad as trying to figure out the correct dialing sequence for his long distance telephone company... which, now that he thought about it that way, meant they were doomed.

"Colonel O'Neill?"

Jack turned to see Harriman fluttering around nervously at the bottom on the staircase. Only too aware the man's reluctance to approach him was well rooted in reality - Jack had not exactly been receptive to those around him over the last several hours - he took a deep breath and resolved to watch his tone of voice this time. He needn't have bothered, as Harriman didn't give him a chance to bite off his head yet again about the delay. The moment he turned around, the Sergeant began waving his hand, pointing one finger suggestively at the stairway and edging up the same. Trying to make a quick getaway. Apparently, General Hammond was finally ready for them.

He tapped Carter on the shoulder and she swiveled her chair around, her fingers still on the keyboard. "Yes, Sir. Just one second while I log off." A few annoying tip-tap click-clicks later, she was standing at his side. "The computer will continue to cycle the Stargate through the glyph sequences one by one. It'll run through the lot of them and record all the valid addresses for us."

Yeah, right. Arrrgh. A whole lot irritated here. Thanks very much, Carter, but he didn't need to be told what he already knew. Plus, as grateful as he was that Hammond had sent the MALP when he did, he was pissed with the man now, not at all partial to waiting for Hammond to call for their formal debriefing as if their mission had been an inconsequential no-gainer. And he especially had not appreciated being so abruptly separated from Daniel, thrown out of the damn infirmary with no more than a terse "I don't know yet, please get out so we can work, and by the way you really need to go shower".

He had done just that before coming here with Carter to set up the system to locate the mistaken address, and had he mentioned that he loathed the new soap in the showers? It smelled worse than they had when they came through the 'gate. His mood plummeted from inexplicably bad to infinitely worse as Harriman tentatively cleared his throat from his perch halfway up the first tier of steps. Okay, yeah, fine. Buzz off. While he had made a show, not only to others but to himself as well, of being anxious to get the debriefing underway, the real truth was that pretty much the last thing he wanted to do was re-live this mission through the telling of it.

Hammond already knew what he needed to know. He was aware of what had happened with Panter and the rest of SG-7... sort of. Well, he knew Panter had wigged out and killed his team. And he knew the Major had beaten and abused Daniel and then attacked the rest of them and left them behind. But there was other stuff which had happened as well, things not immediately pertinent to the General's purposes, things to do with the state of his team - and as far as Jack was concerned it was that which now was the really important stuff. So, just why was he standing around with his thumb up his butt supposedly attending to the matter of one missing but not-so-missed Panter - an altogether, decidedly, incredibly unimportant thing - awaiting a debriefing, when he ought to be in the infirmary?

It was a conspiracy, of course. Hammond and Fraiser, they were in it together, working quietly to undermine what little self control he had left. There was a tap on his shoulder. Okay, her too. Carter was in on it as well. As he turned on her a little more forcefully than he intended, she flinched away and he got a good look at the exhaustion and dismay on her face. He realized he was being an ass.

He wasn't the only one who was worried to the point of distraction, not to mention being tired, sore, hungry, thirsty... and now, damn it, add to that feeling remorseful. Did he mention he was damned sick of regret? Well, he was. So maybe it was about time he stopped doing stupid things that just added to that problem. There was good reason for Fraiser ejecting them from the infirmary - the place was overcrowded already with several pre-existing patients plus two SG teams other than them returning within ten minutes of one another, one of which sported assorted injuries to all four members. With all the hubbub there was no doubt equally as good reason for Hammond to have hustled off after receiving the informal gist-of-it-all during their ten minute meeting in the hallway outside the infirmary. And most of all, it wasn't Harriman's fault, or the SF guy he'd practically dumped in corridor C2's fault, not was it SG-5's fault when he'd had to wait for the shower, only to find that putrid purple flowery-smelling hunk of supposed anti-bacterial crap was the only thing available to soap up with.

It was pretty clear this mission wasn't going to be over just because they were back home, and that was nobody's fault. It just... was. Giving Carter a grimace of apology to which she nodded wearily, he turned to answer his master's call. Going up the stairs was interesting. As if his realization that his mood was not a product of anything anyone else had done was a catalyst for recognition of his own stress and fatigue, suddenly it was as though his legs had turned to lead. Following Carter, he dragged himself up step by step, pulling heavily on the handrail, and rounded the corner into the briefing room feeling as if the short walk to the table was well beyond his capability. It occurred to him that this lethargy, this weakness, was what Daniel had felt, only for Daniel it had been magnified ten - no, probably more like a hundred - times over. Not happy thought. Put it away. Don't think about it.

When he looked toward the table, though, that was all he could think about. Dr. Fraiser sat there, beside Teal'c, a tired and harried look on her face as she shuffled papers in front of her. Absently, he wondered why she wasn't in the infirmary saving lives. Didn't she know people had died? Three good men? Didn't she know she should be saving one more right now? His disorganized worry must have shown clearly on his face, because she immediately nodded and indicated with a slight smile and a wave of her hand that he could relax. Hammond chose that very moment to make an appearance, and eyeing the Doc carefully for any more hints which might come his way, Jack dutifully followed the General to the table and took a seat next to Carter.

Hammond took his seat, thoughtfully staring down at the papers he held. He glanced up at them, then dropped his eyes again as he spoke, scanning the documents. "Sorry for the delay, people. Captain Carter, I assume you have initiated the search?"

"Yes, Sir. The dialing computer is working on it right now. We eliminated the five Earth glyphs Daniel identified and obviously our point of origin symbol, so we have thirty-three to cycle through."

Jack couldn't help himself. "Nine. He identified nine glyphs." He turned his head and stared straight at her. "Including Cra."

To her credit she looked distinctly reluctant and very uncomfortable as she qualified his statement. "Yes, Sir, I know that. But until we correct the one we know is wrong, we can't omit the other four from the dial-up even though we believe they are right. We can't factually confirm them without the missing one, so we need to use them."

"So how long is this likely to take, Captain?"

"There's no way to predict that, General. Even when an entry doesn't nullify the glyphs already entered, the computer needs to dial up the rest of the address before we know if the entire sequence is valid. We've always known it's theoretically possible for there to be more than one symbol which will join with the ones that come both before and after it to form a proper address. We can't just stop at the first one that works. If we want to be sure, we have to do them all."

Jack saw her eyes track slightly off to one side and knew her tangent was a split second away, but it was a bit too late to do anything subtle about it. He tried using 'the look' on her, but by then she was already too far gone into her monologue to notice. "You know, Sir, it would be interesting to play around with it a little. It's pretty obvious that's a possibility with all the glyphs in all the addresses. Well, all right, I know there's gazillions of possible combinations, but we could start with our own address and do some experimenting. I guess we've been a little tied to the Abydos cartouche..."

Given their disagreements on the planet and the resultant tenderhooks they were on with one another, Jack really didn't have either the will nor the energy to interrupt her. Time would heal the discomfort they felt with one another - time plus the reassuring and secure, well understood, nature and boundaries of their working relationship - but jumping down her throat now certainly wouldn't speed that up any. Fortunately the General took it upon himself to right the situation. "Let's stay on track, Captain. We'll send MALPs out to the addresses that work. You mentioned earlier that Dr. Jackson actually had contemplated several different solutions for the incorrect glyph, before arriving at his decision as to which one to use? Perhaps it would help if we concentrated upon those?"

Beside Jack, Carter spread her hands wide, shaking her head. "No, we can't use that. First of all, those notes were all destroyed and Daniel is the only one who knew which ones they were. But even if we did have the others he was considering, they'd be the altered symbols from the planet's DHD and 'gate, we have no way of identifying what real glyphs they actually represented. Remember, Sir, he thought any one of them might be Cancer."

Hammond clasped his hands in front of him. "One of them likely was. Captain, would it not have been prudent to have tried them all?"

Even Jack knew the answer to that one. "That's hindsight, Sir. Daniel chose the one he thought was most likely, and it worked. So far we've never run across a set of addresses which differ by only one glyph..." Stopping for a moment, just to be sure, he glanced at Carter.

"No, Colonel. We haven't." A slight smile played at her lips. "It's a billion to one shot to input six glyphs and a point of origin that actually produce a wormhole, unless you know where you are going. I think it was perfectly reasonable for us to assume the sequence would be correct when all the glyphs worked. At the time, it never even occurred to me this could happen. It's... incredible, that it did. Certainly, the risk for that kind of a misdial has always been there, but the odds against starting from scratch and stumbling onto something like this are, well, astronomical."

Good. So, Daniel couldn't have known. Nobody's fault, it just happened, is all. Miracles do happen and life sucks, and all that. "Okay, so, no way of knowing then. And even if we did think of it, we had no way to communicate with the SGC to figure out which was the right wormhole."

"However, had it occurred to us and therefore all alternatives for Cancer been tested, it would have helped us to ascertain the actual problem with the Oannes address, O'Neill. It is unfortunate we did not consider it." Oh, thank you, Teal'c. Jack raised his eyes to the ceiling and mentally advised Daniel to just ignore the big downer sitting on the other side of the table. Sighing, he hoped this particular topic was just about done with, because to be honest, personally, he really couldn't give a hoot or a holler if they ever found the address. It was a fruitless exercise, redundant to the max.

Hammond's voice cut into his thoughts, and he immediately brought his attention back to the debriefing. "Dr. Fraiser? What can you tell us at this point?"

She smiled at Hammond. "Enough to reassure everyone, General." The confident smile was transferred to the rest of them, and despite already knowing Daniel would be all right from her earlier unspoken message as he had entered the room, Jack felt a surge of relief strong enough to turn his knees watery. It was a good thing he was sitting down. "I have standard x-ray and physical exam findings, plus lab results. We're just waiting for the MRI scan to be read. So far, we have moderate-getting-on-to-severe dehydration complicated by electrolyte imbalance, including potassium depletion..."

Fraiser looked at Carter, "...which is a sequelae of persistent vomiting. Those two problems explain a lot of the symptoms you saw. Daniel was caught in an unfortunate cycle. I suspect the vertigo may have initially been related to some temporary vestibular dysfunction, due to the blow to the head. The nausea and vomiting associated with that persisted long enough to cause some dehydration, which worsened as his fluid intake remained too low to meet his body's needs. It's complicated, but in short, electrolyte disturbance, particularily potassium loss, can affect GI function, as does dehydration itself."

She paused and at the thought the messy details might be done with, Jack's heart soared in his chest... but only for a scant moment. Seemingly encouraged by the General's apparent interest - the man stared at her with a concentrated frown on his face - Fraiser delivered yet further blather which Jack wasn't sure he even wanted to try to follow. Her voice past him. "Clinical effects of dehydration to the extent Daniel suffered also include exhaustion and muscle weakness. Lack of food and the ongoing dizziness you described obviously didn't help matters. Actually, it's a good thing he got home when he did because the potassium imbalance was already severe enough to threaten respiratory and cardiac function."

Jack didn't really care about the gory details. He just wanted to hear that Daniel soon would be up and about, good as new. And that their arguments over his condition could just be forgotten now they were home. Clearly, Carter and Teal'c joined with Hammond in not sharing both his disdain for the nitty-gritty and his urge to tuck it all away out of sight and mind, judging from the furrowed brows and obvious querying looks on their faces. Surprisingly, it was Teal'c who spoke up with a question. He stared fixedly at Carter he spoke. "Dr. Fraiser, Daniel Jackson suffered both a head and chest injury. Are those not the most important concerns?"

"Well, not really, Teal'c. We don't have the head scan results yet, but I'm not overly concerned. He was awake earlier, and neurologically, he seems stable." A raised hand forestalled the continuation of a series of perplexed squeaks from Carter. "Yes, you did tell me he had signs of significant head injury. While what you described is consistent with a possible mild increase in intracranial pressure, now a week after the fact there's no sign of any progression. You said yourself the intensity of the headache and the mental changes appeared to ease somewhat?"

Carter shifted nervously beside him as she asked, "So, you think the head injury wasn't severe enough to worry about? It didn't... affect him, so much..."

Fraiser gave her a curious look. "I never said that. Look, we'll know better when the MRI report is available, but clinically it looks to me as though it's probably a cerebral contusion. The brain becomes, well... bruised, and the tissue swells. That can produce the type of symptoms which you described, including transient behavioral changes. In any case, at this point his neuro signs are good. There's some drug-induced disorientation and of course the weakness, which we can put down to general debility. We can do some testing later to confirm it, when he's well enough, but it's probable the inner ear dysfunction has already resolved on it's own and the ongoing dizziness is a result of the dehydration cycle I explained, lack of nutrition, and low blood pressure."

"Okay. So, you think the head injury wasn't severe enough to worry about?" Jack was sure if the question had been answered or not.

"There's always good reason to worry about head injuries. I'm sure you already know that. We'll need to keep an eye on it to be sure, but I think the worst of that is over with. So... what's going on?"

Jack and Carter said, "Nothing," at the exact same time as one another. Unfortunately, Teal'c simultaneously came out with something entirely different. "It provoked much disagreement."

The ensuing embarrassed silence was broken by Hammond. "People, whatever issues arose, and clearly there are some, those can be dealt with later. Doctor, Teal'c mentioned a chest injury?"

"Yes. The chest injury Teal'c referred to is a slight transverse fracture of the sternum, more of a crack really, with costrochondral separation of the third and fourth ribs on the left side. There's no actual rib displacement, but it bears watching. Extensive bruising and the presence of the fracture indicate a sizable impact, so we'll monitor him for possible cardiac and respiratory complications. It looks good so far, though. It's painful, but not overly serious."

Huh-what? More blah-blah. Okay, so the "not overly-serious" part was nice to hear, but - Jack scrubbed one hand across his face, wishing this part of the briefing would just _end_ now, please. The last thing he wanted and needed was an explicit catalogue of the damage. Hell, why would anyone need that? Carter must have mistaken the gesture, as she leaned in toward him and whispered helpfully, "That means a separation of the rib from the cartilage that attaches it to the sternum, Sir. Must be the 'snap' sensation with breathing that Daniel felt."

He would have screamed in frustration for them to simply get on with the rest of it so he could at least _start_ trying like hell to leave this damn mission behind him, but that would mean he'd have shouted down the General, who Jack suddenly realized was speaking, uhh... to him. Uh-huh. That would have been a Very Bad Thing.

"Colonel O'Neill, am I to understand all these various injuries were inflicted by Major Panter?"

Ahh, oh, okay. Jack felt vaguely foolish over his petulance, as he realized there actually was a good reason for going over all this. The thought that with every word, one more nail would be driven into Panter's eventual coffin - if there ever was to be one - cast a whole new light on the discussion. And even if that wasn't to be, well, payback could always come in the form of self-gratification. "Yes, Sir. The head injury occurred when Panter dumped Daniel off a cliff and the chest was a few days later, when he slammed him into a boulder. And of course, we shouldn't forget the old rifle-stock-to-the-face incident, or the zat blast." Another thought occurred to him, this one grounding him firmly in the here-and-now seriousness of the situation and the importance of the debriefing. "Not to mention what he did to his own team."

The General shifted in his seat, the noise of the leather fabric reminding Jack of Daniel's low groans. A sense of perverse satisfaction filled him over the opportunity to tell of the events of the mission, and he wondered how he could have been so stupid as to have wanted to avoid this. The entire universe wasn't big enough to shield Panter from the truth. Only good could come of this. A dry cough caught his attention, and he looked up to see Hammond staring at him. Had he missed something?

"Colonel? I asked you a question?"

"Uh, didn't I answer it, Sir? About Daniel?"

Teal'c gazed steadily at something past Jack's shoulder, and Carter wiggled in her chair, producing some more of those creaking, groaning sounds. Jack guessed maybe he _had_ missed something.

"No, Colonel." Hammond looked faintly irritated. "I know you must be exhausted, but we have some important matters to deal with and it would be helpful if you could manage to keep your attention on the business at hand." Jack opened his mouth to deliver the required apology, only to find out it apparently wasn't required as the General pressed on. "Clarifying responsibility for what happened to Dr. Jackson and the rest of SG-7 is of great importance. I asked you, were you or any of your team present at the time of the incidents, to witness any of this?"

Leaning forward and shaking his head slightly to clear the sudden low buzz of stunned disbelief from his ears, Jack was hard pressed to keep his voice level. "Sir? Clarifying responsibility? We told you - Panter went nuts, boffo, bonkers, looney tunes. He killed his own men, beat the crap out of Daniel, and then he damned near killed him. Twice. And he took you for one hell of a wild ride, Sir." Seeing the red flush rising on Hammond's neck at the last of it, it occurred to Jack just maybe the General hadn't quite yet given up his seat on that roller coaster. This time, the creaky groan came from his own mouth instead of the upholstery.

Instead of the explosion he half expected from Hammond, the next thing he heard was Teal'c's steady affirmation. "Major Panter told Daniel Jackson he had informed you of a Goa'uld attack on the planet, in which SG-7 and SG-1 had perished, is that not correct?" At a nod from Hammond, Teal'c continued. "As you can see this clearly is not so, it would be wise to doubt the credibility of anything else Major Panter may have told you."

"Sir, surely you don't believe we would misrepresent anything that happened?" Carter's voice was more than a little ragged around the edges. Jack caught a glimpse of a possibly guilt-ridden, definitely pained expression flit across Dr. Fraiser's face before she quickly covered it up with a stony stare at the far wall. He didn't have time to try puzzling out what that might be about and, women being women, doubted he'd be able to even if he had the opportunity.

General Hammond placed both hands flat on the tabletop, leaning forward slightly. While not altogether unkind, his tone was forceful, almost as aggressive as his posture. Jack felt his hackles rise as Carter cringed slightly. "No, Captain, not knowingly, of course not. However, this is a serious matter and the only information I have so far consists of the bare bones you gave me out in the corridor. We are dealing with allegations of cold-blooded murder here, which to this point are unsubstantiated."

Jack half-stood, his increasing anger making it all but impossible to stay seated. "Well, fine! Let's find the bastard and I'll give you all the cold, hard substantiation you want. I'll beat it out of him myself!"

Hammond rose to meet his eyes, but Jack was beyond caring. They had been through hell, Daniel was in the infirmary, and his team had been all but destroyed by those 'other issues' Hammond had dismissed as not being worthy of discussion right then. As if this evident lack of trust in them, this demand for corroboration of what should be taken on faith, _was_ worthy? The knowledge this was a pretty good parallel to what they had done to Daniel fueled the anger, and he let it out all over his superior officer.

"He lied to you right from the get-go, we never asked for Daniel to be sent there in the first place. And he kept on lying to you. He destroyed the MALPs so we couldn't communicate, he shot two of his own men, hell, Tyrrell had half his head blown off, and he zatted the other one to dust! And yes, General, yes, we did witness that one, all of us had to watch it happen. We couldn't prevent it! Just who brought that nutcase on board, anyway? You? Was it you? Is that why you... is that..." Jack petered to a halt as heard the words which had just come barreling out of his mouth without his permission.

Jack's altogether off the wall, open insubordination didn't produce the response he braced himself for. Hammond sank back into his seat, his voice soft, full of regret. "Jack, please. Sit down. Look, part of the delay here was that I had to arrange for notification of SG-7's family members. The team was due to go on stand down five days ago. Their families have lived with the uncertainty for too long as it is." He passed a hand across his bald head, and cast a quick glance at Fraiser. "Of course, I believe you. However, there are some possible contradictions which have come to light. I need to know more about how you came to determine what happened on the planet, specifically those events you were not party to, and I need that information prior to any possible encounter with Major Panter."

"Contradictions, Sir? How can there be any contradictions? There's no one left alive..." Maybe even Panter. Jack was well aware the General had to know that if Panter hadn't of found his way to Earth by now, he wasn't going to. For whatever reason. What this was really all about was beyond him.

"That's partly the point here, Colonel. Major Panter still has rights under the law. Accusing a U.S. Marines officer of the murder of his own men is not something I wish to do without being on solid ground. "

Jack could appreciate that. Why Hammond had chosen this roundabout way of working toward that issue was beyond him, however. Until Teal'c spoke up, and the General answered... and that knot of anger and resentment in his chest which had started to unfurl promptly closed up on itself again.

"Colonel O'Neill's statement is untrue. There is one person remaining alive who was witness to all of the events. General Hammond, do you mean to imply Daniel Jackson is the source of these contradictions?"

"Yes, possibly, Teal'c. If calmer heads will prevail here, I am sure we can straighten that out. Dr. Fraiser, if you please?"

 

* * *

  
  
Sam listened with rising alarm as Janet Fraiser recited a short list of disjointed and contextually misleading ramblings. When the incoming wormhole had unexpectedly activated on the planet, Daniel had already sunk into a deep stupor, rousing only fleetingly in response to the noise and jostling as they pulled him into the woods for cover. By the time they'd finally figured everything out he'd been fully unconscious, completely unresponsive as they had wrapped him up and taken him home. Sam hadn't seen him since they came through the Stargate, over three hours ago.  
  
Daniel had been spirited off to the infirmary before she had even made it to the bottom of the ramp. By the time she got there for her post-mission check, he was well protected from prying eyes by closed curtains and people wielding needles, IV bags, and a variety of tubes, monitor cables, and electrodes. The place was a zoo, staff having to deal not only with their return but the return of two other teams. The scanner was humming furiously, continuously; she'd had to actually wait in line for her turn. From the sound of what Janet was telling them Sam knew Daniel couldn't be entirely lucid, but even if he were, she suspected it would have been difficult for the harried medical staff to do anything but listen with half an ear and misinterpret his mumbling.  
  
Sam had no serious concerns over clearing up the apparent discrepancies between what they had so far told the General had happened to SG-7 and Daniel's muddled words, admitted by Janet to have been spoken through a haze of illness, pain, and drugs. Sam could understand how the General would be concerned over Daniel's apparently plaintive, repeated apologies - for just what, though, he hadn't said - and his reported assertions that he'd "abandoned them", "I shot him", and the especially alarming moan "they're all dead, it's my fault". Even knowing the context was all wrong and could be explained, the comments Janet relayed were dismaying.  
  
Those comments held entirely different meaning for her than for the Doctor and the General. There were implications of far more concern to her in the few distressed statements Daniel had been heard to make. It suddenly occurred to her that not once, other than at the very beginning when he had finally woken after his fall down the cliff face, had Daniel even so much as mentioned the deaths he had witnessed nor the interaction which had led up to them. Cold washed over her as she heard Daniel's voice, in her mind - _by the time I got back here, Sara was dead, Carter your whole family was dead. Hell, I was dead... everyone was dead..._  
  
Of course Daniel's concern over having made the choice he had would be the first thing on his mind. For Janet and General Hammond to accept Daniel's rambling as being anything other than the refection of deep personal hurt was so, so wrong their interpretations weren't even worthy of credence. This was the third time in just over two weeks - oh God, no, make that the fourth time along with his return through the 'gate from Klorel's ship - that Daniel had thought he'd walked away leaving a trail of death in his wake. The alternate reality, the escape from the ship, Paulson and Tyrrell, and then the rest of them when he'd opted for the morphine. And whose fault was it, ultimately, that the last on that list had even occurred?  
  
So, now, what to do about it? Going to Daniel and admitting she'd been wrong wasn't a problem, she could do that. She would do that. But, what next? An apology wouldn't be enough to make up for that mistake, to convince him she truly wanted them to re-establish some basic trust and respect. Would he even feel the same way?  
  
The Colonel was tapping his heel rapidly on the ground, the action transferring an unbearably annoying shimmy from his chair to her own through the point where the armrests touched one another. With an abrupt yank and shove, she jerked her seat farther away, hitting the unoccupied one on her other side. General Hammond frowned at her. The Colonel ignored her, Teal'c gave her a brief impassive glance, and Janet stopped talking. With the sudden cessation of speech Sam became vaguely aware she had lost track of what was being said. She felt her face colour slightly out of embarrassment.  
  
Rescue came in the person of Teal'c, as he cut to the heart of the matter with typical directness. "Other than relying upon our knowledge of events, you cannot ascertain the meaning of Daniel Jackson's words until such time as he is reliably alert." General Hammond only managed the beginnings of noises of agreement before Teal'c continued. "Therefore, would it not be wise to refrain from speculating upon possibly incoherent remarks and proceed in the debriefing with those of us who, unquestionably, remain fully rational."  
  
Despite Teal'c's choice of words it was not a suggestion, but a bald statement. Sam almost chuckled out loud as O'Neill raised his eyebrows and quickly interjected, "That's questionable." Her amusement faded quickly as he turned his attention squarely onto Hammond, casting light on another possible meaning for his quip. "General, the longer this goes on the more and more I feel like I'm a special guest in Wonderland. I couldn't give a rat's patootie about Panter's supposed rights, and now I'm hearing some sort of crap that you're thinking Daniel might have done something wrong?"  
  
"No, Colonel. What you are hearing is concern for the repercussions from this mission. They are much farther reaching than you imagine. You asked if it was myself who selected Major Panter for this post? The answer is, No, it was not. But you can damn well bet the people who did won't want to take responsibility for what happened here. If we aren't careful and thorough, what it might come to, the bottom line, is that SG-1 made it back and Major Panter and SG-7 did not."  
  
O'Neill shifted restlessly beside her, but his voice was steady as he asked, "A little political by-play around the subject of staffing, Sir?"  
  
Sam felt her alarm grow in leaps and bounds as she realized the subtext of the General's words. Blame was an issue here, and he was doing his best to root out anything which might threaten them. Hammond cast a stern glance toward each person at the table and raised one hand, waving a few sheets of paper. "I have a deadline to meet here, people. One not of my own making. We need to be as efficient as possible in covering all the bases. We need to know precisely what happened and why, and there's no room for discrepancies."  
  
Hammond's tone softened considerably as he turned to Janet. "Dr. Fraiser, how soon would you estimate Dr. Jackson might be able to fully and coherently debrief on this mission? "  
  
She looked thoughtful for a moment. "He's quite ill, Sir; today is out of the question. Even when we get his condition stabilized, he'll still need frequent injections for pain over the next few days. If you'll settle for him being more or less awake and alert for short intervals, I'd give it twenty-four hours depending upon his response to the medication. I won't guarantee how reliable he'll be, though. If you need periods of time where he is completely unimpaired by medication, that's unlikely for three to four days, Sir. "  
  
Hammond tapped his fingers on the table, muttering softly to himself. Sam could almost see the tension radiating off him. Next to her, she heard a low mutter from the Colonel, not loud enough to carry beyond them. "Command sucks."  
  
With a slap of his hand on the table which was loud enough to startle her, General Hammond abruptly announced as if it were well within the scope of his role to determine such things, "All right, then. It's clear Dr. Jackson is so ill as to require appropriate medications to support his condition, which makes him unavailable for questioning for a prolonged period." He turned to face Sam, the abrupt change in topic almost dizzying. "Captain Carter, we'll take your statement first, followed by Teal'c and then Colonel O'Neill."  
  
Sam heard a faint glubbing noise, as if from a fish out of water, and struggled to understand if it was herself or someone else who was the source. She knew she had her mouth hanging wide open, but couldn't seem to close it. Realizing the noise had come from the other side of the table she looked over to see Janet's mouth working, but no words coming out. The Doctor's eyes were wide with confusion and unspoken protest. Hammond calmly gazed at the Doctor and with a note of gentle encouragement Sam rarely heard in his voice, he advised, "Dr. Fraiser, please don't misunderstand. Dr. Jackson's health and welfare obviously come before anything else. Please believe me when I tell you, that's the point of all this. Should medication interfere with his alertness, if anyone wants answers they'll just have to wait until it's prudent to provide them. I am asking you to ensure he suffers no more from this experience than he already has."  
  
General Hammond was standing before anyone else even had the chance to move in advance of him. Sam hastened to her feet without even thinking about it, years of conditioning snapping her upright in readiness for the formal dismissal that usually immediately followed a superior officer leaving his seat. It didn't come. Instead, he looked at them all in turn one more time. "Major Panter was thought of in some circles as being 'up and coming'. My point of view was not taken into account in his placement here. While you can attest to Major Panter's general frame of mind and his actions with respect to the incidents you observed, it's quite clear Dr. Jackson is the only one who was a direct witness to substantially all of the important events which took place."  
  
Sam shifted uncomfortably as Hammond sighed and scrubbed one hand across his face. That tired gesture worried her almost as much as his words. It pretty much confirmed her interpretation of the situation - if anyone decided they wanted a different result here, it would be Daniel's credibility they'd go after. Hammond provided further assertion as he continued. "There are certain individuals who might wish to try placing a spin on what has occurred. Dr. Jackson is vulnerable right now, anything he might say subject to intense scrutiny. If he's likely to say anything which could be misconstrued, it might be best if he didn't say anything at all." He turned to face Sam. "Captain, I am sure your report will be very thorough and more than adequately explain any remarks which Dr. Jackson may have made while... ah..."  
  
"Under the weather, Sir? In a state of altered consciousness? Tripping the light fantastic?" O'Neill slashed a hand through the air. "This is a load of crap... respectfully speaking, Sir, of course."  
  
Hammond simply jerked a thumb over his shoulder and let loose with a curt, "The door's that way, Colonel. Dismissed, but please stand by for your formal debrief. Captain Carter, we'll begin in fifteen minutes."  
  
Sam stayed where she was as the others filed out, watching all three men troop down the stairs heading for the control room. As Janet walked by, Sam touched her shoulder. "He's really going to be okay?"  
  
She got a reassuring smile, a genuine one which did more to set her mind at ease than any of the previous detailed explanations of Daniel's condition. "Yes, he'll be fine. Just give him a week or so to replenish his system and he'll be slugging coffee back with the best of them again."  
  
Sam returned the smile and went to sit back down, but this time the hand was on her shoulder. Janet looked at her with a more serious expression. "Sam... Daniel was very upset. He came to in the scanner. That's why we don't have any results yet; he was agitated and we had to stop and pull him out, give him some sedation before we could continue. He didn't seem to be entirely with us, but it was clear he knew where he was. He took one look around and started apologizing. Something about him being wrong, and abandoning everyone?"  
  
Sam nodded, understanding. "Well, he didn't. More like the other way around."  
  
Janet looked both confused and curious, but fortunately let it go. Unfortunately, she had a bit more to say. "He also said something about you. He asked me to "be sure Sam knows", but I couldn't really make it out very well. I think it was something about not meaning to hurt you? He was pretty distressed, and it sounded... well, personal." Sam lowered her head, staring at the floor. The hand on her shoulder squeezed slightly. "There's something wrong, isn't there? Sam, if there's anything you need to talk through..."  
  
"No, no, really. There's nothing wrong. It wasn't a fun week, that's all. Especially for Daniel." Sam knew she dismissed the offer too quickly to be believed, but that didn't matter as she realized there was one thing she really did want to talk about. Something she needed to admit, to bring out into the light of day. Catching sight of an airman out of the corner of her eye as he moved to get the recording equipment ready, Sam pulled Janet aside to stand out of the way at the viewing window. "There is one thing, though. Janet, what Daniel did was incredible. It wasn't just a matter of translating some foreign symbols, it was - God, I don't even know how to explain it. I've worked beside him, with him, for over a year now and I knew he was bright... heck, way more than just bright. I've admired him, enjoyed working with him even though I never really understood how his mind worked... but I never really, truly, understood how brilliant he is." Sam watched a chevron on the Stargate light up, then another. They were still running the program.  
  
Janet smiled uncertainly. "Okay. So... he's brilliant. That sounds like a good thing?"  
  
Yes, you'd think it would be a good thing, but somehow saying it didn't make her feel as good as she thought it would. Maybe because sometimes knowing something and coming to truly believe in it were not quite the same? She'd always placed her belief system squarely in the corner of logic, in quantitative information subject to replication and proof. Fine, so Daniel was more often than not just the opposite of that, his leaps of insight not measurable nor easily subject to dissection. But even so, hadn't Daniel proven himself, long before they had even set out on this mission? Why did she have such difficulty with this? What was it about her that had made her so skeptical, so willing to embrace the possibility of a life-threatening head injury in preference to accepting him on faith? Sam frowned, not certain where this was going to take her, but knowing she had to try to go there.  
  
A flash of colour caught her eye and she looked out the window just as the fourth chevron on the Stargate glowed orange. As the others stayed lit something jumped inside her and a knot of tension formed in the centre of her chest. She stared intently at the Stargate as a fifth chevron activated. Gripping Janet's forearm, she wasn't sure if she wanted the sixth one to work or not. It did. She thought she'd choke on her own spit. Okay, all right, settle down. All it meant was they had an address to send a MALP to, that's all it was. It wasn't like Panter was going to come walking through the 'gate spitting fire and bullets and blue arcs of energy. A little voice in the back of her mind reminded her that, actually, if he were able he likely would have already done it long ago. Didn't matter, though. They weren't even going to be actually initiating a -  
  
Oh, wait... why are they doing that? Sam pelted for the stairs, uncertain as to why they had input the final symbol and activated the Stargate. That wasn't necessary. She took the stairs two at a time, telling herself it was all right, it was an outgoing wormhole, maybe it was just a test, it didn't mean anything. As she rounded the bottom of the staircase and burst into the control room, she saw an SG team just entering the embarkation room and realized the activation had nothing to do with the search for Panter. Just a team leaving on a mission. That's all. Feeling incredibly foolish, she stopped just short of entering the room and turned to go back upstairs, practically running right into Janet, who had followed her, as she did so.  
  
"Carter!" She turned, and O'Neill waved her over to where he stood with the General and Teal'c, just behind Harriman at the computer terminal. "They're done."  
  
They're... done? She heard the General tell the team below to stand by for instructions and tried to convince herself she was confused by the Colonel's simple statement, but she wasn't. She knew exactly what he was talking about. Reluctantly she joined them, biting her lip at the sight of the MALP trundling up the ramp toward the open wormhole. "How many valid addresses were there, Sir?"  
  
"Three." He turned and raised an eyebrow at her, a facetious look on his face. "But one of them is a busy signal."  
  
Teal'c gave her the straight up. "There are only two other glyphs in addition to Cancer which combine with the remainder of the Earth symbols to open the Stargate, Captain Carter."  
  
Two. Just two? That had to be a mistake. Had she said the odds against Daniel inadvertently substituting a working glyph for Cancer were astronomical? She'd thought at the time that there might be oh, heck, conservatively at least five, perhaps more, that they had never known about. But... two? Astronomical didn't nearly approach the odds against that.  
  
The MALP disappeared into the event horizon and after several seconds, Harriman announced that it had arrived on site and was transmitting. Sam furrowed her brow at the strange readings which began to scroll across the monitor, leaning in closer, nose to the screen, as she realized the extent to which they simply didn't seem to make any sense. The gravity and astmospheric pressure gradient numbers and graph oscillation lines fluctuated wildly, the data deviating so far from anything she had ever seen before that to call the planet inhospitable would be a kindness. The entire display jittered and popped in and out of existence erratically, and then abruptly disappeared altogether.  
  
She heard the General ask Harriman to try the MALP camera, and with her face so close to the screen the sudden appearance of bright light and colour startled her. She jerked her head back, her eyes fighting to adjust to the poor quality image as it blurred and jumped in and out of focus, the MALP camera doing a slow horizontal pan. The image continued to waver and pop in and out unpredictably, lines of static becoming increasingly prevalent as Harriman homed in on a blob of something which stood out from the vague and incomprehensible background colours and shapes.  
  
It took a few seconds, but by the time the MALP gave out and the image disappeared, both her mind and her gorge had identified the object. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she heard O'Neill's voice behind her as if coming from a long distance away.  
  
"Oo-kay. So... what now?"  
  
Oh, God. Oh, no, oh Daniel... She was going to be sick.

 

* * *

  
  
Uncurling his fingers from around the handset of the telephone was proving to be just as difficult as listening to the voice on the other end of the line had been. His knuckles were white, the pads of his fingers pressed hard into the plastic and tingling brutally, bright spots of red showing under the skin at the very tips. But his hand didn't seem to want to respond to command.  
  
Respond to command. Command. Hmph. Hammond was starting to think he couldn't really call what he did 'command', when it was open to such blatant and inexcusably unqualified interference. He was glad - so very glad -upon discovering Major Panter's fate he had decided to postpone the formal debriefing of SG-1. It was for his own benefit, and for theirs. He'd really needed to think, and after all they had returned from the planet in what was for them the dead of night. He'd sent them off to quarters with instructions to sleep and not come out until at least eight hours had elapsed, upon pain of reassignment to latrine duty.  
  
As it turned out, it was a fortuitous thing to have done. At the thought of that bit of good fortune, his disobedient muscles relaxed slightly and he felt his grip on the handset loosen. He wiggled the tips of his fingers, raising them off the hard surface and was vaguely surprised at the lack of damage to the telephone. It had felt as though he just _had_ to be crushing it.  
  
He'd known, the moment he had seen what was left of Panter on the video relay, that the decision from above would be made swiftly, the matter of how to deal with the Major himself no longer a complication. The powers that be would come to whatever decision they felt was in their own best interests, no matter the information gained from those who had survived the mission. Predictably, though, they had still asked Hammond - no, not asked; demanded - for the debriefing tapes and failing that, a second-hand report on the content of statements taken from SG-1. Hammond was all too happy to honestly advise them there had not yet been any debriefings, and he was not yet aware of any specific details of the mission over and above what he had already conveyed. Which had been more than enough to allow them to realize the truth about what had really happened, if they were so inclined.  
  
Of course, predictably, they weren't so inclined. Nor were they very happy. But that was just too bad. He'd had a strong urge to go out and purchase some hair shirts for them. The crudely sarcastic saying 'a tear runs down my leg' came to mind and Hammond snorted to himself, pleased with his own attitude of defiance. It wasn't often he allowed himself to indulge in his own dissatisfaction for some of the things he had to do... but this time, with the decision which had just now come down - as unethical and dubious as it was, even by military standards - Hammond was more than happy to wallow a bit in his disgust. Despite their statements to the contrary, their repeated assertions that the input of SG-1 was crucial to their decision on how to proceed on the matter of Major Panter and the deaths of SG-7, Hammond had known which direction the foul wind blew. Procrastination of the debriefings provided protection to SG-1 from the open accusations of blame and collusion which surely would have to occur should SG-1 have tendered formal statements, in order to justify the final disposition of the whole affair.  
  
Panter's demise had been... messy. As it turned out, the possible implications for Jackson had the potential to be even messier. Hammond knew it was up to him to ensure that potential was never realized. He rubbed a hand over his head, vacantly wondering just how grey his hair might be if he had any. He didn't think he wanted to know; this way was better. He checked his watch, slightly amused to see how quickly the self-serving all-powerful had recovered from the horrible shock of being told SG-1's input would not be available for some hours to come. Six hours. He'd known, they'd known, and they'd known he'd known, it was all smoke and mirrors anyway. This way _was_ better. Everyone could safely deny knowledge of anything which might cast doubt upon the officially accepted scenario, and smugly go about their business content that all was right with the world. Everyone except SG-1, of course. But they didn't matter. The truth didn't matter, and it had been made especially clear Jackson didn't matter.  
  
Jackson would have to be told, of course. But not right away; there was no rush, and the boy wasn't well enough to hear it yet. Hammond had no illusions over what the honest and idealistic young man's response would be, and he didn't look forward to dealing with it. Raising a hand to rub his eyes, he practically bashed himself in the nose with the telephone handset. Damn. Hadn't he put that down yet? Well, while it was in hand, he may as well make use of it. Dialing the extension for Dr. Fraiser, it occurred to him that it was informing Colonel O'Neill that he ought to be dreading the most.  
  
Expecting to hear a female voice in response to his inquiry to speak with the Doctor, Hammond was momentarily confused until he realized the deep tones he'd just heard say his name hadn't come from the telephone. He looked up to see O'Neill standing in the doorway to the office, just as Dr. Fraiser announced her presence on the other end of the line. He waved O'Neill inside, feeling slightly irritated at the man. Eight hours, he'd told him. Not six and a half. Not standing on his doorstep long before Hammond was ready or willing to see him. O'Neill was playing with fire and didn't know it; Hammond was well entrenched in resentment for all which usurped his command right then. He'd have the good Colonel cleaning the showers with a toothbrush.  
  
Ah, hell. No he wouldn't. In response to Fraiser's voice, he spoke into the telephone, watching O'Neill sink tiredly into a seat across from him. "Dr. Fraiser. I thought you should know there have been some developments. Dr. Jackson won't be required to formally debrief on the mission. Your treatment plans for him can be adjusted as necessary, appropriate to his status." He was well aware of a sharp rise in attention from O'Neill "How is he doing, Doctor?"  
  
There was a short pause, during which he hazarded a quick glance at O'Neill. The stony look he received was not encouraging. Then Fraiser's voice issued from the receiver. "Well, Sir, as for Dr. Jackson's condition, overall I'd be hard pressed to list him as even 'fair' at the present time, but physically his condition is stable. I had tried to implement the treatment plan we discussed, but I'm afraid it wasn't possible. Actually, it's nice to hear of those new developments. That will certainly make things easier in the long run. In the short term, however, we seem to be having a bit of difficulty."  
  
Hammond sighed. "Feel free to spit it out, Doctor."  
  
"Daniel woke up from the first sedative about an hour ago, Sir. He's in desperate need of further analgesia, but since that time he's been refusing all medication, even to the point of dislodging his intravenous. He won't even take oral painkillers or compazine."  
  
Hammond was flabbergasted. "He's refusing treatment? Doctor... for what reason?" O'Neill sat up straight, his mouth expelling a noisy grunt and forming an obvious question. Hammond waved him to silence.  
  
"He won't say. He just won't accept any medications, or any further IV's until he receives an assurance from you that we won't administer any if he says he doesn't want them. We tried to contact you several times but your aide said you were closeted, dealing with urgent matters. Fortunately, over the past eight hours we have been able to maintain the IV and infuse him with enough fluids and electrolytes to fend off complications. But this isn't tenable. He needs both continued treatment and relief of pain and nausea."  
  
"Then give it to him, Doctor. He can't be rational." If O'Neill leaned forward in his chair any further, Hammond would need to clear off the top of the desk in preparation for landing. He shot the Colonel a stern look, but it had no effect.  
  
"General, I agree, he doesn't seem to be thinking straight. He's not making much sense, but he knows where he is and who we are. I may not understand his reasons for refusing medication, but the fact is unless I take steps to declare him incompetent, he's within his rights to refuse treatment." There was a pause and muffled noises as she spoke to someone else before returning to the telephone. "But he doesn't seem to believe me when I tell him that. I don't suppose you're available? I wouldn't be happy about doing it, but if you insist, I'll try to overrule him on the basis of competency. We'd likely need to restrain him."  
  
O'Neill was practically vibrating with barely contained stress. Hammond imagined he could see steam leaking from the man's ears. "No, Doctor, don't do that. I have one thing to take care of first. Please tell Dr. Jackson I'll be there as soon as I can."  
  
Before he had even hung up the telephone, surprised that his fingers actually released the damned handset without argument this time, O'Neill was making his needs known. "So what's going on? What's this about Daniel?" The man was half out of his seat. Hammond knew O'Neill was perched to flee the room to the infirmary at the first mention of anything he might not want to hear. Well, there were a few things O'Neill wasn't going to enjoy hearing, and Hammond wasn't quite certain where to start. The Colonel, impatient for some sort of information, decided that for him with his next questions. "Is Daniel okay? You said he wouldn't be debriefed. Hell, the rest of us still haven't debriefed. What's with that, General?"  
  
"Apparently Dr. Jackson is awake and refusing treatment until such time as he speaks with me. I don't understand why." Deciding time was probably of the essence - it sounded like the boy was holding the medical staff hostage with his own pain - Hammond rose and indicated O'Neill should follow him. He made his way out of the office and through the briefing room. "We can talk on the way to the infirmary, Colonel."  
  
O'Neill bounced along beside him, the usual irrepressible irreverence still in evidence, however much dulled by the frown on his face and the circumstances. "Okay, sure. Good plan, Sir. So... what's to talk about?"  
  
"That, Colonel, what you have just said, is what's to talk about. Apparently, according to those who have inserted their fingers into our little pie here, there's very little to talk about with regards to this mission." At the 'say-what' expression on O'Neill's face, Hammond gave him a very quick run-down on the political climate around what had happened. He didn't need to be elaborate in his explanation; O'Neill was just as good at reading between lines as he himself was and it didn't take much for the Colonel to demonstrate his understanding of the situation.  
  
Stopping dead in his tracks just a few feet from the elevator, O'Neill gave him a steady, dark, stare. "So. Because some pasty-faced bigwigs pegged Panter for up and coming future play at multi-jurisdictional-junior-command here and he's turned out to be a sicko-homicidal maniac-nutbar, they care more about covering their own injudicious butts than they do about what actually happened?" Hammond's own protest was mirrored in O'Neill's face and belligerent tone. "Sir! Men died - no, they were murdered - on that planet. So what now? We just leave the bodies and the bullets in them and the truth behind us? Sweep it all away so some Armani-suited asshole can continue to pick out the worst of the best of the worst for us? Shit! If Panter was such a protected golden boy, why was he put in the field to risk everyone else's lives in the first place?"  
  
That was a good question. Hammond knew SG-1 was entitled to an answer, even though giving it would implicate himself in the overall travesty. "That's entirely my fault, Colonel. I never agreed with their assessment of Major Panter's abilities and discretionary judgment. But the eventual future for the SGC apparently includes a second tier on-base multi-jurisdictional command structure and Major Panter was going to be the test case. He was due for promotion at which time he was to be pulled to receive some specialized grooming, several years of it, but until such time as his promotion he was given to me to integrate into the SGC, whether I wanted to or not. My instructions were to acquaint him with all aspects of the project."  
  
There was understanding, not reproach, in O'Neill's eyes. Hammond was grateful for the man's professionalism. For all O'Neill's distinct lack of decorum, the man was military through and through and Hammond knew he innately respected and understood the pressures and often unwelcome responsibilities which came with the job. "Ah. So, you assigned him to a new team and only sent them out to carefully selected planets. Wouldn't have done to have gotten the golden boy toasted. But it turned out he wasn't exactly Mr. Charming, and you wanted us to go along to find you a good reason to pull him out."  
  
Hammond nodded. "Yes. Apparently there was some pressure to have the Major demonstrate his abilities, but I would have been in a difficult position if I placed him in overtly dangerous situations." Hammond joined O'Neill in a derisive snort. "Right, Jack. It appears there might be some fundamental misconception about the innate dangers of going through the Stargate, no matter the destination. In any case, it was only to be for several more months, then he would have been rotated through other areas."  
  
O'Neill put on what Hammond knew was a completely facetious thoughtful expression. "Oh... he got rotated, all right." Both of them shuddered slightly at the reminder of what they had seen. "So, who nixed the debriefs? You or them?"  
  
"I did, Colonel. I had reported the stranding of SG-7 and SG-1 and Major Panter's request for Dr. Jackson, moments after we first made contact with him. And later, I conveyed his story about the Goa'uld... and the deaths of all the rest of you, except for Dr. Jackson. For the last three days, in the hallowed halls Major Panter has been rather picturesquely portrayed as a hero, alone, caring for a wounded man on a hostile alien world, struggling to find a way home after failing in a desperate attempt to save your lives."  
  
O'Neill buried his face in his hands for a moment, letting out a pained, "Oy."  
  
"Yes, oy indeed, Jack. When we first lost contact, we tried dialing in at regular intervals with no luck. Eventually we sent a new MALP, and he was right there. He fed us his story, told us Dr. Jackson was injured and required his files in order to decipher the glyphs, and we sent supplies. We had arranged to re-establish communications at a pre-designated time should he not return before then."  
  
"Last night. Oh, err, make that this morning, right? That's why he didn't destroy everything right away. He wanted to keep the stuff in case Daniel had trouble opening the 'gate. He would have used the rest of us as hostages to force Daniel to work on the glyphs. Okay. So, Panter never got here to cancel the wake-up call, so... you opened the 'gate, couldn't contact anyone, and decided to send one last MALP." Hammond nodded, and O'Neill placed a hand on his shoulder, a look of such genuine appreciation on his face that a lump rose in Hammond's throat. "General... God... what can I say. Thank you for that."  
  
Hammond swiped his card through the slot beside the elevator and the door glided open. They entered, and with a slight jerk the elevator began to ascend. Conversationally, O'Neill remarked, "Guess nobody was pleased to have us on the other end of that MALP rather than him. Especially with what we had to say."  
  
Hammond smiled. "No, Jack. All the people who count were very pleased. You should have heard the whoop and holler in the control room when it was your voice we heard."  
  
The doors slid open and as they exited, Hammond in the lead, O'Neill asked the last, most dreaded question. "So. What's the official story?"  
  
Hammond stopped, turning slowly to face the other man. "You won't like it."  
  
"I already don't like any of this, General."  
  
He told him... plainly, simply, without rancour or embellishment. He didn't even pause as O'Neill's face grew blacker with every passing word, to the point where it seemed the Colonel would explode.  
  
"The official record will reflect the content of Major Panter's recorded communications with us. With the exception of Major Panter, SG-7 was killed by Jaffa and followers of the Goa'uld. He and SG-1 managed to escape and hide out in some ruins, in which Dr. Jackson found the basis for translation of the glyphs. Upon setting out for the Stargate, you, Captain Carter, and Teal'c were separated from him and Dr. Jackson in a firefight. Although he fought valiantly and saved Dr. Jackson, the rest of you were assumed dead. Jackson was injured badly enough to be immobile but with the help of the files we sent, he managed to come up with an address and Panter apparently decided to come through to get help in bringing Dr. Jackson back home. He never made it. The rest of you did."  
  
O'Neill's voice was like coarse gravel. "There are more holes there than Stargates in the galaxy, Sir."  
  
Hammond resumed his progress toward the infirmary, turning his back on the fury in the other man's eyes. "I don't think they really care, Jack. It's been made very clear that any contradictions won't be tolerated. And you know with the top secret status of this project, they can back that up."  
  
"That's why no debriefings. We'd need to be discredited." O'Neill's voice was soft, almost a whisper, from behind him. Hammond knew that fury would still be there, but tempered by the same realization he himself had come to. This was a decision which, although not necessarily originating, had been sanctioned at the top. To fight it would likely mean an ignominious and very quiet end to their participation in the SGC, if not their careers. To politicians, loss of face was everything. Hammond was pulled backward slightly by a strong hand on his shoulder and turned in response, not surprised when the acknowledgement came. O'Neill was a bright man. "So, thank you again, Sir. But, the bottom line: they're saying Daniel made a mistake which killed a hero."  
  
The sour taste in Hammond's mouth was almost overpowering. "Yes. And, Jack... I have been instructed to register a formal censure in Dr. Jackson's record." The expected explosion was a silent one, but no less intense for its discretion. O'Neill swung around and moved as if to punch the corridor wall, his eyes closed and face twisted with rage. Breathing heavily, he regained control a lot sooner than Hammond knew he himself would have if it had been him who had watched what Jackson had gone through on that planet. O'Neill's mouth moved with the silent question, why? Hammond answered it with one word, his mouth burning with the foulness of it. "Corroboration."  
  
O'Neill looked at him and acknowledged, "You're just as trapped as we are." Moving away, he sneered. "Save the goddamn planet, and look what you get. If you don't mind, General, I'd like to go see Daniel now."  
  
He disappeared around the corner before Hammond could even get his own feet in motion. Following along, sighing, once again rubbing a hand over his bald and now sweaty head, Hammond tried to console himself with the thought it could have been much worse. O'Neill could have threatened to deck him instead of the wall. He would have hated to deliver two censures.  
  
Then, as he entered the infirmary and made his way to where O'Neill stood at the edge of the half-drawn curtains around bed eight, it did get worse. He heard unsteady speech as he drew up beside O'Neill, a quavering, weak shadow of the already normally soft-spoken voice which so often provoked not only both wonderment and exasperation, but also the occasional repressed flush of fatherly affection. Jackson sounded awful. When Hammond heard his name mentioned by the young man and pulled the curtain aside, 'worse' took a nose-dive into far worse than worse.  
  
Shock, anger, bitterness at the position he was in, even the intense regret for what he had to do to Jackson... all the feelings which immediately rose up at the sight before him were swept aside by a wave of concern as Daniel turned his head toward him. Bloodshot eyes stared plaintively out of a drawn, pain-filled and exhausted face which looked not at all the same as the one he remembered as belonging to this person. Remnants of intense bruising coloured the boy's face with varying shades of blue, yellow and dusky red, around both eyes, on his forehead and cheekbone, across the bridge of his nose. His lower lip was swollen, the end of a small, black, wiry stitch just visible poking out from the inside.  
  
That wasn't all. Jackson lay with his torso bare, the obligatory hospital gown folded down forward over the covers as a nurse fussed with attaching a monitor lead to one of the five electrode patches on his chest. Intensely mottled blue, so dark as to be almost black, sickening in its thoroughly deep invasion, lay in a large patch over the centre of Jackson's chest, spreading thick tentacles out in every direction to lay claim to channels of deeply reddened adjacent skin. His arms lay lax at his sides, dried trails of blood running down one forearm and across his hand, probably the result of acting upon his refusal of treatment. The assumption was verified when Hammond caught sight of the blood-stained IV tubing hanging coiled around the knob on the IV pole beside the bed.  
  
And that wasn't all, either. As Hammond's presence seemed to register with the young man, Jackson reached out and weakly pushed at the nurse, a low growl issuing ominously from his throat. His head rolled back against the pillow immediately, as if that action had drained all the remaining life out of him. She took the hint, quickly snapping the lead onto the patch and flapping her way out of sight and mind through the curtain. Jackson looked at O'Neill, squinting slightly in mute appeal. That one, though, he wasn't going to pull off and he seemed to know it, even before O'Neill crossed his arms over his chest and simply stated, "No way."  
  
With a slight shake of his head, Jackson stared Hammond straight in the face for all of two seconds before being unable to maintain the gaze. Hammond realized Jackson was past coping and on the verge of slipping away, as the young man closed his eyes and slurred out a disjointed string of tortured, almost incoherent, words.  
  
"General. Please. Order her... no more. Stay awake, my choice. I was wrong. My big mouth, shouldn't have resisted, made Panter kill them... abandoned my team. Please... order her. Have to stay awake. All wrong. No more. Sam, please, believe me... "  
  
Mixed with the breathless, fading rambles coming from Dr. Jackson, Hammond heard O'Neill muttering under his breath, something about things coming back to bite him on the ass, followed by rather colourful language to do with the volume of waste products produced by various large animals. Oh, hell's bells. The lucid behavior Friaser had seen must have degenerated into complete disorientation, but... just what in Judas priest happened on that damned planet?  
  
Jackson promptly passed out. O'Neill bellowed for Fraiser. Hammond added both a silent imprecation against medical ethics and a very verbal addendum to the call. "And bring some damned painkillers with you when you come!"

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

**Part Nine**

  
Daniel idly picked at the loose threads unfurling along the edge of the blanket, trying to distract himself from the thoughts whirling around in his head. Pain, deceit, death... incompetence. Oh, yeah. Yeah, that one. That was a good one, along with his personal favorite, betrayal. His fingers found a couple of threads he'd missed and as he pulled them, an interesting almost variegated pattern formed in the fabric as its weave slowly disintegrated. It reminded him there was something else he'd much prefer to be pulling on - actually, a few things - but that would hurt, and he'd had his fill of hurting. He shifted slightly in the bed, feeling the tug at his groin and the pinch on his forearm, and smiled faintly to himself at the memory of Jack foretelling the benefits of tubes and new holes. He glanced at where the IV needle was inserted in his vein, wanting nothing more than to rip it out and scratch away at the reddened skin under the transparent adhesive patch covering the site. And as for the other -

Well, in fact... he did feel better. Much better. Amazing the difference a day makes. Okay, well, it was really three days, but that was how the expression went. He wondered just where that particular phrase came from. Pleased with the possibility of a new distraction, he eagerly pursued it. Actually, it was an interesting topic, how catch phrases and colloquialisms evolve from meagre beginnings to solidify their hold on contemporary language. If his memory served him correctly, it was C.A. Poullard, PhD-of-course from Stanford via - where he hell had Poullard done his preliminary work? never mind it didn't matter - via somewhere else who had done that hallmark retrogradation study on the origins and progression of...

Daniel started as the curtain around his bed was abruptly yanked open and unexpected voices raised in greeting invaded his small refuge. Rubbing his sore chest, he realized he had been lost in thought for a few moments. Long enough for Jack and Teal'c to sneak up on him, unfortunately. No opportunity now to whip the head of the bed down eight inches and lay back to do a long-suffering, at the end of a very long winding road, apathetic 'feeling so sick wanna die' routine. Shit. Busted.

He felt his face flush as both of them virtually squealed with pleasure - well, Teal'c more like grunted, but it was a long loud one - at seeing him sitting up at a good sixty degree angle, all bright eyes and bushy... no, that would be going just that little bit too far. But, it was true, he did feel better. Physically, anyway. Giving in, he managed to paste a small smile on his face in response to their pleased acknowledgment of how _good_ he looked over the previous day. He just hoped they wouldn't expect him to actually talk to them, because it was hard enough to just sit there in their line of sight without burying his head in the pillow and trying to cocoon himself out of existence in the bed linen.

The initial pleasantries over with, both men stood at his bedside, shifting slightly in the ensuing moments of uncomfortable silence. Daniel ducked his head, concentrating on the edge of the blanket. It was all too obvious they didn't know what to say to him any better than he did to them. Other than the previous evening - when Fraiser had apparently decided to test his lucidity through a period of blessed abstinence - Daniel didn't remember most of the last several days with any real sense of clarity. From the self-conscious, faintly embarrassed looks on his teammates faces, he figured that was probably all for the best.

There were various images and impressions floating around in his head of white linen and cold grey metal, blurred objects, heat and cold and sickness, muted pain, dizziness and confusion. Bustling medical staff, tepid water and rough washcloths, far too loud whispered voices, and way far too many embarrassing intrusions upon the sanctity of his body to even bear thinking about had been his whole world. Witness... the horrible 'it' down below, the IV in his forearm and the other really big one securely taped in place in the crook of his elbow, multiple bruises and holes from repeated blood tests, and the electrodes still stubbornly stuck to his chest, sending their vital messages across a network of tangled, multi-coloured, thin wires which tied him down more securely than any ball and chain ever could.

He didn't fully recall, nor fully intellectually understand even now, his apparent attempted manipulation of Dr. Fraiser and the nurses... nor the visit from the General during which, he'd been since told, he had insisted Hammond order Dr. Fraiser not to treat him. He sure was aware of the outcome of that particular misbegotten adventure, though. He had spent the last two days in a drugged fog, not so much as able to even awaken fully before the next needle was plunged into either brown rubber injection ports or tortured muscles. Through it all, he was all too aware of the overwhelming sense of panic, the impression that something was _wrong_ , of feeling the distinct need to try righting that wrong no matter what it took... and of his complete inability to do anything about it.

He remembered Jack's voice, and Teal'c's, both of them there just when he needed to hear them the most, to know they were safe from whatever incomprehensible danger threatened them and relentlessly tore at the edges of his confused mind. He felt an unexpected rush of thankfulness and looked back up at them only to quickly drop his head again, closing his eyes as the gratitude was immediately followed by stronger humiliation and feelings of culpability. He'd only found out that morning, courtesy of Dr. Fraiser's distinctly reluctant answers to a few choice insistent questions, that there was more to regret than he had even realized.

"Oh fer crying out loud. Daniel..." Daniel felt the side of the mattress dip precariously as Jack perched himself on the edge of the bed, and automatically scrunched his legs over to one side slightly. "Okay, wait..." As the mattress bounced somewhat violently, jarring him, Daniel scooted his butt over a few inches. "Great, thanks. I was about to slide right off onto the floor. Look, I don't know for sure what's running through your mind, but judging from the way you were babbling on... Daniel, you didn't do anything wrong. Just the opposite."

Yeah, sure. So, where was Panter? And Sam? Where was she? Oh, crap, wait - buh, buh... b-babbling? Oh, no. No, no, no. How disturbing, embarrassing, degrading. Disgusted with himself, Daniel muttered under his breath, his mouth barely moving to form the words, "Didn't exactly do anything right."

"You did everything right, and don't let anyone try to tell you any different." Aw, hell. Normally if Daniel wanted Jack to hear him, he'd need to raise his voice at least above a dull roar and choose a topic he knew Jack would approve of. Damn. This was perverse. "You went through hell to help us, Daniel, and you did things with that damned DHD no one else could have done. There's nothing wrong about the kind of determination and dedication you showed."

Don't want to do this, Jack. Can't do this. Daniel laid his head back against the pillow, aware of the beginnings of dizziness even though his eyes were closed. He'd messed up and the last thing he needed to do was discuss it. Go away. Maybe his chest would start to hurt, or his head, and he'd ask for a... No! God, coward, coward.

"I wish to thank you, Daniel Jackson." Shut up, Teal'c. Can't do this. Killed him. "Had it not been for your work on the glyphs, we would never have been able to leave P6V221." Killed. They died. Everybody died. Everybody but him. Apophis came and landed on the mountain and the ships blew up in space and Panter came and everybody died and he -

What? What did Teal'c just say?

Daniel opened his eyes, lifted his head. Teal'c's face did a slight dodge and blur and then settled into place. "What? I didn't get us here, Teal'c. Wasn't me. I got it wrong."

"On the contrary, Daniel Jackson. We would not have been able to dial the DHD if you had not deciphered the Tau'ri address. We would not be here."

Why did no one ever listen to him? Fine, they wanted to talk? Ignoring the pull of the tubes and wires and the sharp jab in his chest, Daniel pushed down on the bed and raised himself up onto his arms, leaning forward. "Teal'c, do I need to spell it out? I got it wrong. I messed up and sent Panter to God knows where; I killed him. Then I screwed up Oannes. I messed up on the glyphs. I got us nowhere."

"Oh, this is a load of crap. You are oh, so misled. Don't tell me Hammond or Fraiser haven't filled you in yet on what went wrong?" Jack place a hand on the opposite side of Daniel's legs and put his weight on his arm, leaning forward, his upper body forming an effective barrier which trapped Daniel between that hard place and the mattress behind him. "It was one glyph, Daniel. That's all. First off, you're too smart a guy not to understand if you hadn't of gotten all the rest of the glyphs done right, we wouldn't be here. It was just a matter of circulating through to find the real Cancer, and I'll double-damn guarantee if we go back and sort through that Altarian stuff, it's going to be one of the ones you were thinking it might be. You are so full of shit, you know that, Daniel. Martrydom doesn't suit you, so knock it off."

Jack moderated his tone of voice and leaned back, easing off the invasion of personal space. "Carter says it was a zillion to one shot, but you just happened to hit on an alternative glyph to Cancer that worked with the rest of the address. Daniel, believe it. You did good."

His jaw feeling like it was made of concrete and his breath catching in his chest, Daniel abstractedly wondered if the increasingly erratic pace of the low beeping from the bedside monitor had anything to do with Jack's bit of charity. Just one glyph? Cancer... not Cra? Cancer. When he'd been told about Panter not being there, he'd thought he must have gotten both addresses wrong - multiple mistakes.

Jack gave Daniel's forearm a quick pat. "Look, as much as I hate to do this, there is something important we need to talk about, if you're up to it. It's, ah, well... it's not pleasant, Daniel."

Oh, well, fine. So what is, these days. Still trying to process what he'd been told, Daniel simply nodded dumbly, trusting that if Jack said it was important, in that one of voice and under these circumstances, it would be.

"Okay. So you obviously know Panter isn't here." Jack waved an arm expansively around, indicating not only the rest of the room but likely the entire base. The entire planet.

"I asked Dr. Fraiser this morning if he was. She didn't want to tell me anything at first, but she said he never made it back. That the Earth address I came up with was a misdial."

"Yeah, well, she shouldn't have put it quite that way... but yes, Panter never got here. Why the hell didn't she explain how _we_ got here?"

"I didn't ask." Didn't want to know. Hadn't wanted to know, after realizing that even though he had abandoned his team they had managed to do what he couldn't. He had been so sure he was the only one who knew what he was doing. Pitiful, disgusting arrogance to think he knew best. Sam had been right. Pride, false pride, really sucked. He heard Jack's incredulous snort, his amazement that Daniel hadn't asked the most obvious of questions, but ignored it.

He knew now; Teal'c and Jack had just told him. Cancer. He'd messed up with Cancer, the fourth symbol in the Earth address, and the fifth for Oannes. No wonder the DHD crapped out when it did with Oannes. The new realization that Cra had been right after all, and that yes, just as Teal'c said, in a way it _was_ his address which got them home, provided little solace. He'd been banging away at the wrong door and Panter was off somewhere, likely having bled to death from the wound Daniel had inflicted. He killed him. He hadn't wanted to do that. He'd wanted to hurt him, sure, to disable him and prevent him from leaving so Daniel could get over there and retrieve the single GDO from him. But... he'd killed him.

He said it, voiced it, made it irrevocably real and as he did so a knife-like pain twisted in his chest. "Jack. I shot him. Panter would have come home by now if he could. He's... he's out there, God knows where, but... he must be dead or dying. I sent him off, to die." There. It was out.

Jack's voice was soft, full of understanding. "Daniel, we all know you never meant for anyone to die, even him. But if it hadn't of been him, it would have be you... and then the rest of us. Hammond established a new contact time with Panter when he sent the supplies. If Panter had made it back they never would have sent a new MALP, and we'd still be playing ring around the rosy with the DHD dial. We never would have known it was Cancer that was wrong, and without you, we never would have even had a chance at figuring that out." The hand on his forearm squeezed slightly and held that grip for a few seconds before releasing him. It was a reassuring gesture which spoke of acceptance, and Daniel felt the knife-pain piercing his chest back off a few inches. "Better him than you, Daniel. Hell, better him than even _me_."

"O'Neill, there is the matter of the debriefing." With Teal'c's words Daniel recalled Jack had said there was something important they needed to discuss. They had gotten somewhat off track.

"Yeah, right, thanks Teal'c." Jack stood up, his demeanor suddenly harder, more distant. For a second Daniel wondered what else he had screwed up, before remembering Jack had just unequivocally told him he hadn't done anything wrong in the first place. Daniel knew it would take a lot longer for his soul to acknowledge what his intelligence already was starting to come to terms with, but he'd try. He really would try to believe it.

"Daniel, this is important. Don't have a cow, but there's been some political garbage going on. Turns out Panter was part of some high mucky-muck's wet dream for the future of the SGC. It's distasteful, Daniel, but for our own protection the details of this mission have to stay between us. There's no debriefings, and if you hear any scuttlebutt about your part in it, no matter what it is, you bring it straight to me... you understand?"

Jack's expression was dark and brooding. Daniel looked in surprise at him, not understanding what was up but knowing if he had understood, it was definitely something he wouldn't like. It was the look on Teal'c's face which stilled the question forming on his lips. Teal'c was rigid, his jaw clenched so hard there was a small muscle tic jumping on one side of his face, his eyes staring straight ahead. This was something big, and very unpleasant. Jacks' words replayed in his mind, and he focused on the part about him. Scuttlebutt about his part in it...

His part in it... Panter being something special, no debriefing, no talk about it outside of the team - Shit. Sudden understanding swept through him like wildfire. No wonder Jack was so vehement about trying to convince him he'd done no wrong. Trying to compensate for the dismal political reality. "Jack... they're blaming me, aren't they? Panter was unstable and they don't want to admit it. He's gone, he can't convict himself, so they can sweep it away. But they need a scapegoat to account for him not coming back... and that's me, right?"

Right. Absolutely right. The complicated mix of anger, misery, guilt, and compassion on their faces told him what they obviously were reluctant to confirm out loud. Jack let a slight whisper of acknowledgment escape his mouth, in accompaniment to a regretful nod, tight jaw, and narrowed eyes. "Yeah, Danny. In writing."

A flash of almost overwhelming righteous indignation stole Daniel's breath for a moment and having no other choice, his voice shifting into reverse gear and his ability to somehow overtly defend himself firmly stuck in neutral, Daniel let his head sink into the pillow behind him and quickly thought it over. So, what now... did he go off waxing philosophical about truth and lies and ethics and morals? Again? For about the twentieth time since joining the SGC? It wasn't really him who was being shafted here. It was Rykert, and Tyrrel and Paulson. Or... wait... was it? How would their names be best remembered? As brave men fallen in a battle for the protection of mankind, or as unfortunate victims of their insane commanding officer, their lives lost for no good reason?

No. That was a lie. It would be a lie... and Daniel didn't support lies. Did he? Or, did he? Were some lies...? Was his very participation in the program - Ugh. What would Rykert want? Awareness of the increasing pounding in his head and pressure in his chest reminded Daniel he wasn't exactly at his best here. Didn't have the energy nor tolerance for this.

So, okay, maybe not this time, or at least, not right now. He was still far too sick to use up his limited energy in that way. What did he need a pristine personnel file for, anyway? It wasn't as if he was up for promotion, or future job prospects hinged on what was written in a highly classified file no one outside of the SGC would ever see. He really hadn't wanted to talk about this mission anyway, and if there were to be any rumours that he'd sent Panter to his death... well, that part was true.

 

Okay, then. For now, for the time being only, maybe he could live with this. He smiled slightly as it occurred to him that once he was feeling better and especially once his soul finally caught up with his mind, there'd be such localized hell to pay over this that his military friends would want to transfer to the Antarctic rather than listen to him go on about it. At Jack and Teal'c's puzzled expressions over his small smile, his uncharacteristic reaction to this latest outrage, he couldn't keep it from broadening into a self-deprecatory grin, even though the stitches in his lip pulled like hell.

Keep 'em off balance, Jackson. Keep 'em guessing. Wouldn't want anyone to get to know him too well, would he? God... they might even come to trust him one day if that happened.

 

* * *

  
  
"Hey, Daniel."  
  
"Hey, yourself."  
  
He didn't look too bad. Not as bad as he had over the last couple of days, alternatively resisting the nurses attempts to care for him plus restlessly moaning and mumbling half the time, and in a disturbingly motionless sleep the other half. The Colonel had said he was much better today, but she hadn't been sure whether she ought to believe it or not.  
  
Sam approached the bed, the fat pocket book held behind her back in her clasped hands. He seemed much more alert, lucid. His voice still sounded pretty rough, but the words seemed to come out okay. Certainly, the glaze was gone from his eyes. Still had that death-warmed-over dragged-down look, though. She supposed that might take a bit longer to go away. Pretty obvious he was still sick. Maybe this wasn't such a great idea. Janet had said it would be another day or so before he got some energy back, as he still wasn't eating much of anything. Maybe she should come back later.  
  
"What have you got?"  
  
Yes, he's definitely much better if he could see she was carrying something. If he could even see her, for that matter. Nosy bugger. If she wanted to share with him, she would; he shouldn't have asked. He always had to know everything. She settled herself on the edge of the bed, allowing the book to slip from her fingers onto the blanket behind her. She never should have brought it in the first place, and in the second place it was only his business if she wanted it to be.  
  
Oh, man. What was she just thinking? Boy, she was even more messed up than she thought. Daniel fixed his eyes steadily on her face and smiled, quite self-consciously, and Sam instinctively knew he wanted to set things right as much as she did. Maybe this wasn't a bad idea. Well, bringing the book... it needed to be burned, because he'd just look down his nose at her over it. But the visit, that was a good thing. Realizing how glad she was to see him actually aware of her presence, unlike the other times she had been here over the last few days, Sam found herself returning the smile with a broad, genuine, face-cracking grin. It felt good.  
  
The skin around his eyes crinkled as he asked, "Is it something for me?"  
  
Ahh, no. No. Suddenly, seeing the real Daniel here in front of her looking into her eyes, instead of the one who she'd had to watch suffer for the past week, Sam felt foolish for even bringing the stupid thing with her. She didn't need it. Whatever had possessed her? Ah well, yeah, she knew what had possessed her. She didn't know what else to do with herself, with him, how else to figure this out, that's what. But it was a Stupid Idea. "Oh, uh, no. No, it's just a book. Daniel, you're looking a lot better than yesterday."  
  
He looked down at the blankets and she thought she saw the beginnings of a slight pink flush on his face and neck. "Yes. I feel better. Dr. Fraiser cut back on the meds. She told me you asked her to do that." He looked back up at her and she was surprised to actually see wry amusement on his face. "I think she was surprised to find I was actually in here somewhere. Sam... thanks."  
  
She reached out and pulled the overbed table toward her, angling it to slide its wheeled feet under the bed. Pulling the table around to fit between them over the bed, she leaned against it and folded her arms on its surface. "Hey, I figured it was more the drugs keeping you from us than anything else. I..." She waggled her head, a bit nervous about the possibility of embarrassing him. "I wanted you back."  
  
Spreading his hands wide, palms up, Daniel quipped, "Hey, I'm here. Now, give me my present."  
  
She tried to laugh. Didn't quite work out. "No. I told you, it's nothing for you. I'm sorry... give me a minute and I'll run out and buy you something..."  
  
He looked at her, tipping his head slightly as the amusement faded from his eyes. "Thank you for coming, Sam."  
  
She had the urge to ask him if that was a dismissal, if maybe she did need to run right out and buy something for him, but she knew the time for humour had passed. "That's okay. I would have come sooner, but we're updating the dialing program and I had some stuff to get ready for the rest of the crew to work on. It ended up taking most of the day. Colonel O'Neill told me he was here this morning?"  
  
As Daniel nodded, he winced and reached out to grasp the edge of the table. Seeing the same tell-tale signs of dizziness which she had gotten so used to discerning over the last ten days, Sam reached out and closed her hand overtop of his, rubbing her thumb along the line of his knuckles. He tried again, this time moving his head more slowly. "Yeah. Jack and Teal'c." There was a slight catch in his voice. "Sorry. I've been having some dizzy spells since they let me put the head of the bed up."  
  
Sam reached over and pressed the button, decreasing the angle by half. "I hope you tried to eat your dinner. Janet says you need to start eating something. Actually, you're so much better than you were last night even now, Daniel. I'm sure now that you're on the mend, it'll all go away before you know it. You'll be up and about putting this all behind you in no time."  
  
His eyes closed, Daniel pulled his hand out from under hers. "Putting all this behind me. Jack told me about the official stance on P6V221." He opened his eyes again, gazing at her with an unreadable expression on his face. Closed-off. Neutral to the point of being distant. "Is that why you came to see me? To tell me I can put it behind me? Or is this purely a social call?"  
  
Sam found herself trying to stammer out an answer, but not knowing quite what to say without sounding patronizing. She knew why she was really here, but was worried he'd send her away if she said it. So she settled for some vague denials, wondering how to broach the real issue without sounding like some sort of wishy-washy emotional - "Uh, no, no, Daniel. I know it won't be quite that... I mean, yes, well, this is a social visit, I wanted to know how you were feeling, but it's not completely just social... but I would never...  
  
"Sam." Daniel looked at her sternly. "You know you're about to break out into some serious babbling, don't you? Jack told me how I was babbling away over the last few days. Trust me... you don't want to go there." His voice softened, a wistful smile playing at the corners of his mouth but not really reaching the light of day. "Look, I know we have some fence-mending to do. I just... well, if that's why you're here, I hope you have a better idea of how to go about it than I do. Because I'm really lost."  
  
Sam watched silently as Daniel looked down and began picking at the edge of the blanket. She couldn't help but notice the distinctly damaged rows of fabric along the entire width of the hem, loose threads and large gaps in the weave giving it a distinctly tattered look. This was not a brand new pastime for him. The minute that blanket hit the laundry...  
  
"Sam, I'm really sorry. I apologize for the way I spoke to you. I wish I could take it all and stuff it back in, but - Anyway, it's over with now." Daniel's words trailed off into a deep sigh and an accompanying wince of pain.  
  
She finished the first sentence for him. "But you can't stuff it back in, because that would be dishonest, Daniel." As he ducked his head even further and yanked the blanket higher to cover his chest, still pulling at a particularly fat bundle of threads, Sam reached out and pulled it out of his hands. "Stop. You're willfully destroying government property, and you're trying to avoid me."  
  
He looked up at her, faint hurt and clear objection in his eyes and voice. "Hey. I'm the one who just apologized. And I'm the one who brought it up. You've been skirting all around it since you walked in here. " He frowned and looked slightly flustered. "Well, okay... so, not verbally... actually..."  
  
She knew exactly what he was talking about. She'd come here hoping to find some common ground, something to help them feel more comfortable with the things that had been said and done, but she'd been too chicken to actually bring it up herself. But now that he had done it, he seemed all too willing to throw it away with one brief apology. That wasn't enough. They had hurt each other, and sweeping it under the same rug where Panter's remains lay wasn't going to do it. Steeling herself against the possibility of being scorned, derided, or even openly laughed at, she reached behind her and picked up the book. He better damn well behave himself because if he laughed at her, or made her feel any more stupid than she already did...  
  
Feeling a flush of embarrassment rising in her face, before she could lose her nerve she stammered out, "Daniel... I, I'm sorry. I was wrong. I should have believed in you more, but I wasn't sure how. I... I'm not sure why... I'm not sure if I can change who I am..."  
  
Expending her last bolt of misplaced courage, she yanked her arm around, pulled out the book, and plunked it down on the overbed table. And began to understand. To gain an inkling of just what Daniel had been yelling at her about in the village. A curious look on his face, he reached over and picked up the book. His eyebrows raised up as he read the print on the front cover and after a few seconds, he looked up at her. He said one word only, just her name, but the way his eyes smiled at her, from out of a completely understanding and accepting face, almost did her in.  
  
"Sam."  
  
He didn't laugh, he didn't tease or patronize her, he didn't even look confused. Of course he didn't. It was her who had done all those things, had been doing them to herself from the moment she had bought the book, it being so, so, so, so far from her usual fare that she had felt silly about even having thought of it. She realized that Daniel being Daniel, he never would have laughed at her even though he himself might never have done the same thing. She knew she had a ways to go, and may never get all the way there, but she was starting to understand. It was about acceptance despite differences. And about how easily actions toward others could be ruled by innate traits that have little to do with the other person.  
  
He opened the book, rifling through the pages, and looked up at her. "You know, you can find some real gems in some of these. I've never heard of this book." He turned it over in his hands. "Looks brand new. Have you had a chance to go through it at all?"  
  
She shook her head, nope, and found herself wanting to take it back. This was ridiculous. Chagrined, she dropped her chin and held her breath. Daniel shifted in the bed, grunting slightly, and Sam heard the sound of pages being flipped. Apparently settling on a passage, he began reading. Oh, God. Aloud. She covered her face with her hands.  
  
"In pursuit of the attainment of one's wholeness of self, we must never lose sight of that which our lives are made of. The answers lie within our relationship with ourself and with those we seek to commune with. There can be no true harmony where there exists a state of separation from self and others, for the reflection of our true worth lays in our acceptance of self and those others..."  
  
Oh, this really wasn't her thing. That what it said - if she could understand what it said - might be true was beside the point. For other people it might be wonderful, but for her... and to bring it to Daniel... She should have just found a way to _talk_ to him. It wasn't a tool for breaking the ice, it was evidence of her failure.  
  
There was a rustle of paper, and an exclamation which Sam couldn't tell for sure expressed pleasure or amazement, or both. "Hey! Sam, take a look! There's a chapter specifically on communing with others... wow, look at the diagrams... uh, oh my... gee, do people actually _do_ that?"  
  
Sam jerked her head up and grabbed the book out of his hands. The clerk at the bookstore had told her it was the most popular self-improvement guide found on the market focusing on understanding and improving relationships with others, and included excerpts from some of the most renowned philosophers. An an undeniable bestseller. Well, she guessed she knew why, now. How could she have missed - Daniel made a grab of his own, managing to get hold of the back cover as he complained, "Hey, I was looking at that. It's the most interesting thing I've seen in over three weeks..."  
  
She yanked hard and the back cover ripped right off. Daniel held the torn cover in his hand, studying it, turning it over a few times. He raised his eyebrows at her and pointed at the book in her hand. "Uh, can I trade you? I kinda like the pictures." She laughed, and looked at the book with disfavor.  
  
"Chapter eight, I think it was. Page one-eighty-five, anyway. Have a look, Sam." He prodded her thigh with his knee.  
  
Okay, well, what would it hurt. Anything to find a connection, even visual communing. She'd actually bought the damn thing, hadn't she? Flipping through the pages, frowning as she got closer, Sam saw no sign of any diagrams of any kind. She went past the point he had directed her to, continuing to flip, and there was... nothing. Why, that little shit. He _was_ making fun of her... laughing at her...  
  
She raised her head, disappointment in them both rising in her chest. But he wasn't laughing. Just the opposite. With a serious and encouraging look, his voice soft, almost pleading, Daniel redirected her back. "Sam. Page one-eighty-five, top of the page." He pressed his lips together and smiled tightly, jerking his head toward the book.  
  
She found the page, and started reading. Four lines into it, her heart did a nervous dance and then settled as she read further. The flow of it swept over her, the cadence lending a sense of peace and surety to the words, the emotion and meaning capturing her in a warm yet painful embrace. Half-way through she glanced up at Daniel to find him resting with his eyes closed, head back against the pillow, his lips moving ever so slightly in silent speech. She read the next line aloud and as she moved on to the rest, he joined in and softly recited it with her.  
  
"You would touch with your fingers the naked body of your dreams.  
And it is well you should.  
The hidden well-spring of your soul must needs rise and run murmuring to the sea;  
And the treasure of your infinite depths would be revealed to your eyes.  
But let there be no scales to weigh your unknown treasure;  
And seek not the depths of your knowledge with staff or sounding line.  
For self is a sea boundless and measureless.  
Say not, "I have found the truth," but rather, "I have found a truth."  
Say not, "I have found the path of the soul." Say rather, "I have met  
the soul walking upon my path."  
For the soul walks upon all paths.  
The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed.  
The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless petals."  
  
< excerpt from: On Self Knowledge; in: The Prophet, by Kahil Gibran

 

Thanks for reading.


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